


When the Darkness Feels like Home

by MaybeDefinitely404



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Logicality - Freeform, Blood, Emetophobia, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food mentions, Graphic Description, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Panic Attacks, Prinxiety - Freeform, Rape, Sanders Sides angst, Serious Injuries, Unsympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, non con, not safe for sanders, poor virgil needs a break, real world AU, toxic dukexiety, trigger warning, vomit tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeDefinitely404/pseuds/MaybeDefinitely404
Summary: “Virgil…?”Virgil’s eyes finally settled on him, reading every detail of his face like a book. He was silent except for the gasping breaths every now and again that sounded like rattling pebbles in a fan.“I don’t know you.”~~~Sanders Sides, human AU. An attack at his job lands Virgil in the ICU, leaving Roman, his boyfriend, alone. When Virgil finally wakes up, something is seriously wrong... and Roman knows of only one person who can help. But that person may not have Virgil's best interests in mind.MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING
Relationships: Logan x patton, Logicality, Prinxiety, Virgil x Roman
Comments: 48
Kudos: 171





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: implications of self harm, panic attack. Stay safe <3

Roman woke up to the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen and jumped up before his mind had even processed it. A glance at the empty bed he had just leapt from gave him pause though, realizing it was probably just Virgil dropping a plate or something by accident. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and checked the phone on the bedside table. 6:47. Odd. Virgil should have been driving to work already, why would he still be in the kitchen? 

With a stretch to pop his aching back, Roman opened the bedroom door and walked downstairs, nose wrinkling at the change from carpet to cold hardwood under his bare feet. It kind of bothered him that he was up at the ass-crack of dawn on his day off, but at least he got to say goodbye to his boyfriend before he left. As he rounded the corner however, he slowed. Virgil was kneeling in the dining room holding the splintered remains of a large picture frame, struggling to pick the pieces up with shaking hands. Roman sighed quietly and dropped to his knees, gently stopping Virgil from grabbing the tiniest shards.

“Hey, Virge, look at me.” He whispered. The boy in front of him didn’t move, instead focussing on the thin glass pieces in his clenched fists. “Viiiirge,” Roman tried again in a singsong voice, letting one of Virgil’s hands go to gently lift the other’s chin so their eyes met. His lip quivered and his face was flushed pink due to his panicked, short breaths.

“Keys,” he whispered, and the glass cracked as he unknowingly squeezed his fists tighter. Roman barely needed a second to understand the situation; the shelf where the frame had sat previously was a mess, the drawers all pulled out and all their contents, mainly Roman’s old art supplies, were dumped onto the dining room table. Virgil must have bumped one of the open drawers and knocked the frame down looking for his car keys.

“Can’t find your keys? Did you check in your hoodie from last night?” 

Virgil nodded shakily.

“Bathroom?”

Nod.

“Kitchen counter?”

Nod.

“Couch cushions?”

Nod.

“Key hanger by the door?”

“Yes Roman, I checked everywhere! Why would I be looking in your goddamn pencil drawers if I hadn’t looked everywhere else first?!” He finally snapped, throat thick with tears. Roman took a deep breath, almost like an example, but said nothing. 

“Alright, I’m sorry love. You’re right. What time do you have to be at work?”

“Seven,” Virgil choked out, suddenly becoming aware of the glass chunks in his hands and the blood dripping down the sides of his palms.

“That’s in ten minutes-”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I was going to say, ‘that’s in ten minutes, let me give you a ride,’” Roman said gently, helping Virgil to his feet and walking him to the kitchen, a supporting arm around his waist. 

“No, you don’t have to.”

“I’m going to though. And then after, I’ll come pick you up and we can look for your keys together. When we find them we can watch a movie and just chill, okay?” Virgil’s eyes continued to flit back and forth; the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but Roman’s eyes. 

“I really don’t want to make you-”

“Hup bup-”

“It’s a twenty minute-”

“Hup bupbup-”

“Roman I don’t even know-”

“Hup bupbupbupbup!” Roman smiled and leaned down, silencing Virgil’s complaining with a kiss. “I’m driving you, and that’s final.”

Virgil pouted for a second before leaning onto the sink heavily, his shaking frame still unsteady. He turned the faucet on with his elbow. “Fine. Just promise never to “hup bup bup” me again. And put clothes on, you’re not driving me in just your pajama pants,” With that, he plunged his glass covered hands into the sink and gritted his teeth.

Roman hummed an affirmation, knowing Virgil wouldn’t let him baby his bloody hands, before grabbing his boyfriend’s phone from his pocket and walking upstairs to change. After tapping in the passcode (it was the same as his, 0315) he scrolled through the contacts until he found the one he needed. The phone rang as he shuffled out of his pajama pants and pulled on a pair of jeans.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, is this Virgil’s boss?”

“His supervisor. Who is this?”

“Name’s Roman, I’m his-” he faltered, not remembering if Virgil was ‘out’ to his coworkers or not, “-roommate. Virgil’s roommate.” He didn’t know if Virgil being gay was a secret to the people his boyfriend worked with, but he’d rather not ‘out’ him without his consent.

“Is everything alright?” The man finally put a bit of concern into his otherwise drab tone.

“Mostly, Virgil was just picking up some broken glass and cut his hands pretty badly. He’s just cleaning himself up, so he’s gonna be a few minutes late to work. He’s on his way, though.”

“Alright. As long as he gets here.” With that, the man on the other line hung up and Roman tossed the phone onto his bed, pulling on a red shirt with his free hand.  _ Asshole,  _ he thought, grabbing the phone again and taking the stairs down two at a time. The sun was just peaking into the kitchen window when he walked in on Virgil trying and failing to wrap his bloodied hands. 

“Need a  _ hand _ ?”

“Ha. Ha.” He handed the thin bandage to Roman anyways and let his boyfriend patch him up. He concentrated with smolder-like intensity, determined to wrap it properly. 

“How’s the anxiety?”

“Settling but still there.”

“Okay. Your supervisor sounds like a swell guy.” 

“He’s a piece of work. He’s not all that bad though, at least  _ he _ does his job,”

Roman remembered all the times Virgil had come home ranting about some of his useless coworkers who couldn’t seem to get anything right, and chuckled slightly. A minute and a couple of pained hisses from Virgil later, his palms were thinly wrapped and good to go.

“Are you sure you should be working like this?”

“They’ll stop bleeding in like ten minutes, I just needed a way to keep the blood from getting on my work clothes. They weren’t deep, and they’ll be totally good in a couple days. Don’t worry,”

“Ten minutes? That’s oddly specific,” Roman laughed teasingly before meeting Virgil’s saddened smile, remembering with a sigh how Virgil knew the time cuts took to heal. “Right… sorry,” 

“It’s okay,” Virgil said, taking his turn to give Roman a gentle peck on the cheek, “Can we go?”

“Mmhm,” Roman grabbed his keys from the hook in the entryway and locked the door behind him, taking Virgil’s hand in his delicately as they made their way to his car. It was a used white Civic, nothing fancy, but Roman called it his Noble Steed any chance he got. He opened the passenger door for his boyfriend like the sappy romantic he was. Virgil laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes, still trying to get the heavy knot in his stomach to dissipate. He could feel his hands begin to shake again as his phone alarm went off, signalling on a normal day that it was time to finish sulking in his car in the hotel parking lot and clock in. Only now, Roman was just backing out of the driveway. 

Roman seemed to notice the mood shift in his passenger and reached over to take his boyfriend’s bandaged hand again, rubbing his thumb over the knuckle gently. 

“It’s okay, Stormcloud. I talked to your supervisor, remember? He’s not mad that you’re late.”

The nickname seeped through Virgil like a wave of ice water over his flushed skin, making a smile pull at the edges of his lips. Still, it wasn’t doing much to soothe the nausea in his gut. The half an hour drive to work was quiet, broken only by the gentle radio and Roman humming along to the songs. By the time they got to the hotel that Virgil worked at as a breakfast attendant, Virgil felt considerably calmer. They parked near the door and Virgil groaned.

“I don’t  _ wanna _ go to work,”

Roman entangled his fingers in Virgil’s hair and tugged him closer, pressing their lips together. He pulled away quickly and scratched the back of his boyfriend’s scalp lightly, making him blush. 

“I’ll see you later. Done at noon, right?”

“Mmhm,”

“I’ll be here. Love you,”

“Love you too,”

“Love you more,”

“Love you most,” Virgil slammed the door before Roman could get a word in, and he watched with a goofy smile on his face as the love of his life straightened his black button up and pushed his purple bangs out of his face. The slow sliding doors opened for him and he gave Roman a final wave before disappearing into the building. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING, PLEASE READ***  
> This chapter contains graphic r*pe and extreme violence. If either of those topics trigger you, please skip this chapter. I wrote this story in a way that you can skip to chapter 3 and still understand the full plot.  
> Please stay safe <3
> 
> Also what the hell is wrong with the formatting haha  
> (I tried to use a name for the antagonist that isn't common. I'm so sorry if that's your name) X(

“Zar, I’m so sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find my keys, and then I cut my hands on this broken picture frame, and-”

“It’s alright, Virgil,” his supervisor said, turning around from the pan of scrambled eggs he was working on. Out of managers Virgil had had in the past, Azaria was far from the worst. He snuck leftover bacon pieces onto a plate on the counter for any employee to grab if they were walking by, and gave up his tip if it didn't split evenly among everyone working. Sometimes, he'd make basic English muffins and bring them down to the housekeepers. He looked the other way if Virgil forgot to eat breakfast and snagged a pastry from the ready-to-serve tin. But despite all this, he had a temper. Virgil had only seen it a couple times; when someone just didn't come in for a shift, or they ran out of clean plates because the person on dishes that day was slacking. Azaria, 'Zar', as the crew called him, was a man that was not to be messed with, and Virgil knew that he'd messed up. Azaria gave him a once over before turning his head back to his pan. “You’re on dish,”

“Wait, couldn’t I do front with Holly? Dish is going to hurt my hands and Elissa already offered to-”

“Virgil,” the candied voice interrupted, “Dishes. Now.” As good of a boss as Zar was, temper not included, there was also a side of him that Virgil shied away from. Everyone loved him, and Virgil had really tried his best, but there was also something about the man that set off alarm bells in Virgil's mind. There were things that happened sometimes, rare enough that they could be chalked up to coincidences. They were always at the front of his mind when he was at work, and as his eyes met Azaria's, he was taken back to all the things he couldn't make himself forget; the things he hadn't told Roman. 

_ It was almost closing time, and in the back of Virgil’s mind, he knew he would be switching dish with someone anytime soon so he could have a break. He was just pushing a stack of glasses into the dishwasher when he felt his apron loosen and the swift fingers brush his ass, staying for a few seconds longer than they should have. _

_ He slapped the hand away and spun around, face to face with Azaria.  _

_ “What’s wrong?” the man asked in a gentle tone. _

_ Virgil couldn’t say it outloud, his second thoughts immediately getting to him. What if it was just an accident? Maybe he hadn’t meant to, maybe he hadn’t noticed. Instead, the smaller man gave an awkward smile. The moment froze and they were stuck just standing there for a second, neither making a move.  _

_ “Time to switch, Virgil. Can I have the apron?”  _

_ Virgil pulled it over his head faster than lightning, almost pulling his ears off in the process and quickly passed it to the other man. Trying with all his skill to avoid touching the other, he got out of the cramped space and walked into the almost empty dining area, taking a deep breath. It was just an accident, he told himself.  _

_ A week later, he was filling a bucket of soapy water in the sink. He was off in his own world, quietly humming some Disney song that Roman had gotten stuck in his head, when he felt someone’s presence behind him. He shut off the water and turned around, meeting Azaria's face inches from him. _

_ “Sorry Zar, I was just getting water…” _

_ The taller man didn’t move. They stood barely inches apart, Virgil’s breath beginning to catch in his throat, as Azaria looked him up and down hungrily. Then with a burst of confidence he didn’t even know he could muster, Virgil placed a hand on the other’s forehead, trying to keep a playful atmosphere, and pushed him back with an uncomfortable laugh. _

_ “Personal space, dude. I’ll give you your sink back.”  _

_ Same as the time prior, he squeezed past his supervisor and burst out into the dining area, placing a hand over his pounding heart.  _

After that, there were too many other times to count. Subtle touches as he passed the oven, long glances directed his way, small comments that made his skin crawl. But now was not the time to worry about that. He had to get to work.

Virgil gave a quiet hum before walking to the opposite side of the small kitchen, away from the oven, and grabbed a water-proof apron from the swinging door. Just as he did, his coworker pulled it back and began to push in a cart, covered in plates stacked a good two feet high.

“Oh good god, Liss,” he mumbled. She smiled apologetically.

“Happy birthday?” Despite how he felt, he couldn’t help laugh at the younger girl. 

“Thanks, just what I always wanted,” he pulled the cart towards the plunging sink in the corner and was effectively wedged in the small space, surrounded by the sanitizer and drying rack on either side. With a wince of pain, he turned on the spray and got to work.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Eleven thirty came quicker than he thought and the breakfast bar closed, now they just had to finish clean up and he could go home with Ro. The thought alone made butterflies rise in his stomach. A gentle smile tugged at his lips. He shoved a final tray of plates into the sanitizer and slammed it shut, leaning against the sink. 

Azaria was at the other end of the sanitizer, putting away clean dishes. Everyone else had gone home, seeing as there was no real reason for more than two people to finish the job. It was just them.

“How are your hands?” Zar asked, putting a tray on the rack to air dry.

“Hmm? Oh. I’ll just rewrap them when I get home. It’s okay,” In all honesty, it wasn’t okay. The scabs had reopened and he had to keep dabbing at them with a paper towel, and the flesh around the cuts was red and puffy. Getting soap in them continuously all day had been agony, but he had kept his mouth shut. And as long as Roman didn’t see, and didn’t ask anymore questions about his asshole of a supervisor, he would be fine. He needed this job, and if Roman found out what a creep he was, he would surely make him quit. And Virgil knew he should, or report the guy at least, but what evidence did he have?

“Aw, let me see,” The taller man took a quick stride towards him and grasped both of his hands, holding them close, “Oh, that doesn’t look good at all.”

“It’s fine, Azaria. Really,” Virgil tried in vain to tug his arms away subtly.

“Why don’t we go to the First Aid kit? I’ll wrap them for you.” 

The tone in his voice was enough to properly freak Virgil the fuck out and he jerked his arms back, feeling the familiar knot of claustrophobia at the same time. His elbow hit the rack hard and shifted it, making the metal tray Azaria had just put on crash to the floor with a bang. It was easily the loudest sound Virgil had ever heard, and it echoed in the small room. 

He flinched hard, bumping right into him. 

Who pulled him in closer.

“Zar, you badly misread that. Please let me go,” Virgil pulled back, but the other didn’t do as he asked. Instead his hand moved further down, until it was holding his ass.

“C’mon Virge, don't be such a spoil sport. I'm just having some fun.”

“Okay, well, fun over!” Virgil was pushing against him now, fighting the overwhelming panic in his chest, “Look, my boyfriend really isn’t going to like this!”

That was the first thing that made Azaria slow down, bringing his face away from where it had been tucked in the crook of Virgil’s neck. “Your boyfriend? You told us you were gay, you never mentioned a boyfriend,”

“W-when I came out, I-I didn’t have… I didn’t have one, but now I do. Please just, please let me go,”

And for a second, the grasp loosened, and Virgil thought he would be freed.

But then the arms around him got tighter.  _ No,  _ Virgil thought, suddenly realizing where this was going.

“Let me go!” He screamed, hyperventilating, “Stop stop stop stOP STOP STOP!”

“Now, now, Virgil,” he whispered right into the smaller man’s ear. It was close enough to feel the hot breath move his hair, feel his lips brush against his neck. “Just let me do this, just once, and I promise never to bother you again,”

“You absolute fucking bastard, get your hands off me!” He reared back just enough to get his hands free from where it had been trapped between their chests and he slapped Azaria across the face…

And immediately regretted it.

A fire lit in his eyes, the side of his face now a bright red contrast to his usually pale skin. “What… do you think… you are doing?”

“Let go of me!”

Azaria leaned down so their noses were a hair's width apart and clenched his teeth, new found determination in his mismatched eyes, “Not a chance. And if you’re going to make this difficult, you won’t like the measures I take.”

“No way in hell will I not make this difficult for you.”

“Don't say I didn't warn you.” Azaria moved his hand quick as a flash and buried it in Virgil’s hair, grabbing the purple locks and yanking him into the middle of the room, where there was more space. 

“On your knees.”

“I’d rather die.”

“I said,” With a gust of strength, Azaria pulled him back by the hair and then virtually threw him headfirst into the fridge, making Virgil cry out in pain, “ON YOUR KNEES!” 

Virgil didn’t budge, now seeing stars but still fully conscious.

“And I said… I’d rather die,” 

Azaria reared back and heaved his head back into the metal fridge over and over until Virgil lost count. And then he was on the ground, rough hands around his throat, driving his head into the hard ground. Virgil’s throat hurt from crying out as blood dripped from a gash in his temple. The dishwasher lugging away was the only reason the sounds couldn’t be heard outside of the closed off kitchen.

Finally he stopped but Virgil continued to whimper, black spots dancing on the edge of his vision. He heard the slide of a belt buckle and tried to sit up so he could back away, but his arms refused to listen to him. All he could do was lay there and look at the ceiling as he felt Azaria shift his weight so he was sitting on his chest. 

_ This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t- _

Azaria wrenched his mouth open and before Virgil could process what was about to happen, Azaria's member was in his mouth. Virgil immediately gagged, choking, and his head seemed to clear. Suddenly everything was in stark focus. The hard tip knocking against his windpipe, the way Azaria's balls kept hitting his chin, the hand curled in his hair, pushing his head into the ground. 

For a moment, Virgil’s strength came back and he bit down hard, making him yell. He pulled out and held his dick in his hands, looking down at the teeth marks around the shaft.

“You good for nothing slut!” He reared back a fist and hit Virgil square in the nose. There was a loud snap as it broke, and he could feel the blood begin to flow backwards into his throat. He swallowed heavily, preferring not to choke on his own blood. 

The small bit of strength, the moment of clarity, was now gone. He turned his focus back to the ceiling, but it was now a blurry, shifting swirl. His ears rang. 

For a moment, Azaria's weight was off of him, and he thought it might be over. Maybe his bite had caused real damage. He took a deep breath, quickly regretted the action, coughing up a spray of blood onto his shirt. That’s when he felt his belt being loosened and his pants were torn off his legs, exposing him to the cold air.  _ No... _

Something was poking around near his hole, and even in his drowsy state, he realized what Azaria had planned. The man in question hovered over Virgil, the left side of his face still red from the earlier slap. 

“I wasn’t going to do this. I was going to just let you suck me off like the disgusting slut you are, but no. You just couldn’t be still. Now tell me, Virgil-” he leaned down closer, “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

He had given up. The tough act was down. He was defeated. He couldn’t fight anymore, so instead he looked directly into Zar's eyes and whispered, “Please… please don’t…”

“I had such high expectations for you, Virgil,” And with that, he thrust into his victim, with no prep or lube.

Virgil let out something between a scream and a sob, the sound muffled by Azaria's hand flying to his mouth. The taller man pulled back and thrust in again all the way, pulling the same sound from Virgil as before. He did it again and again until Virgil could feel his skin tearing inside him.

“There you go… blood is a great lube, you know,”

From there on, Zar set a steady pace, and the pain grew worse and worse. His voice was gone from his harsh muffled screams, and all he could do was let the tears flow from his eyes. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized it was way past noon. He should have been off work by now, Roman was most definitely waiting for him.

_ Please come look for me Roman… please… _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't understand ao3 formatting.

12:07.  _ Hey V, you done yet? _

12:13.  _ Viiiiiirge _

12:25.  _ Everything good, Stormcloud? _

12:32.  _ I’m just gonna come in, hope that’s okay. Car’s hella hot. _

  
  


Roman passed the front desk, shooting a smile at the two people sitting there, a small brunette with wide rimmed black glasses and a tall dark skinned man with short dreads. They both gave half-assed customer service smiles as he strolled through the lobby, making his way to the breakfast area. As he passed, she went back to explaining something on the computer to him. He must be new.

The room was a huge atrium looking out into a courtyard on one side, a pool straight ahead, and a parking lot to his right. The tables filling the large space were an organized chaos, facing every which way so that it was almost unorderly, but it somehow worked. Fake potted plants and barrels filled empty spaces, and many buffet tables stood against every open wall. 

He’d seen the kitchen entrance only once, when Virgil got his first interview, and Roman came with him as moral support, though he just sat in the lobby and had never actually seen inside. The door was closed, the sliding door usually open looking into the kitchen was down, and Roman stood still, taking in the dead scene before him.

Something was wrong. 

Everything was closed, where was Virgil? Had he gotten the time wrong, and his boyfriend had gone somewhere else? No, he would have texted. Had his phone died?

His heart was pounding, but he couldn’t figure out why. Something in him, just a sixth sense, was telling him to check the kitchen out. But that was a staff-only section. A couple minutes had passed with him just standing there, and the front desk people were glancing in his direction every few seconds. 

He was ready to walk back to his car to call Virge when a single muffled cry came from inside the kitchen and he spun around, launching himself at the door. The door handle jiggled uselessly, and it clued in. Of course, he needed a key card. Silence had fallen behind the door and he sprinted back to the front desk people, struggling to speak around the lump in his throat. 

“Something’s wrong,”

“Pardon?” The girl asked, glancing awkwardly at the man next to her. 

“I heard something from the kitchen, I think someone’s hurt. Can you please just check?” He basically pleaded, his eyes rimming with panic tears. That was the only explanation, Virgil must have tripped or gotten hurt in the kitchen and that’s why he hadn’t come to the car. 

The girl grabbed a spare key and speed walked around the desk, suddenly spurred into action, the man following close behind. Roman let her lead, no matter how much he wanted to grab the key card from her hands and bolt to the door himself. 

“Michael,” she addressed her coworker, “Get ready to call 911, just in case,” she said, placing the card in the slot and opening the door. And what they saw was something Roman would never get out of his head…

Virgil was laying on the floor, barely conscious. His head was rolled lazily to the side and his eyes were out of focus, barely cluing in that someone had entered the scene at all. On top of him was a man… who was… 

“GET OFF OF HIM!” Roman roared, adrenaline shooting. Quick as a bullet his hands were around the man’s throat. He threw him onto the ground and hit him once, twice, three times, until his nose was gushing blood. Just as he reared back for another punch, a set of hands grabbed him and pulled him away. Behind him stood the front desk man, Michael, he remembered, hands rested on his shoulders.

“We got him. Help Virgil,” Roman’s breath caught in his throat and he pushed past him, dropping to his knees next to his boyfriend. He began to speak quietly, pulling his white hoodie off and gently covering Virgil’s lower half.

“Hey Virge, I’m right here. It’s Roman. I’m here, okay? I’ve got you. He won’t hurt you anymore. I’m here.” With a small shift, he was able to pull Virgil’s limp head onto his lap. His hand hovered over the blood covered purple locks, wanting to run his hand through them to calm him down but hesitating at the obvious head injuries he  _ had _ to have, eventually just letting it rest on his cheek. His other hand rested on Virgil’s chest, finding comfort just in the fact that he could feel him breathing. 

Through the hazy atmosphere in Roman’s head, he could hear the girl talking hurriedly and listened as she described the scene to the 911 operator.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - 

It hurts...

Everything hurts. Head hurts. It just... keeps... hurting. 

A dull ache, pounding with every pump of his heart, making him want to curl into a ball and die right there. Virgil could barely make out the wall in front of him, feeling as if the world was spinning. Each breath he drew in caused agony and he just wanted it all to  _ stop _ . 

He didn’t even realize the feeling, the pain inside of him had been ripped out until a cool hand rested against his cheek and he sighed, finally feeling the smallest tinge of relief. A voice above him spoke but it was warbled and quiet. Yet, whoever the voice belonged to must have been magical, because the wall began to come back into focus. 

But with that clarity, came his thoughts.

Oh my god.

Oh… my god…

I was just-

He lurched to the side and vomited before he could control himself, retching and gagging until there was nothing else left in his system to throw up. Still then, he continued to dry heave, coughing hard, as the thoughts stayed nailed into his mind. The physical pain, the kind of pure fear he hadn’t ever felt before, the sticky mess between his legs of blood and…

He heaved for a final time and slumped back against whoever was holding him, and the cold hand returned to his burning cheek. 

“’m sorry,” He murmured, his blinding headache worse than ever. He coughed, now struggling to breathe from the intense pain in his throat. 

“It’s okay, love. I’ve got you. It’s all going to be okay,”

Wait. He recognized that voice…

“Roman…?”

“Mmhm, it’s me. Take a deep breath, I’m not leaving you,”

Maybe it was the second step of realization, maybe it was the relief of being held by his boyfriend, but the next thing Virgil knew, he was sobbing. Absolutely bawling like a baby, fat tears crawling down his cheek, his chest aching from the exercise. 

Then from by his feet, there was a scuffle and someone yelled, “Fuck fuck FUCK, grab him!”

A shadow lurched before his eyes and something bumped roughly against his legs, causing a whole new level of pain. He cried out and grabbed at Roman’s arm. The figures fought and he felt Roman shift his weight underneath him, and Virgil’s heart began to pound.

“Please don’t go, please don’t, please stay, Roman don’t go-” His words slurred together weakly, as if his tongue had gone numb.

The man in question shushed him quietly, placing his other hand against his jaw. From his new position he was right in Virgil’s line of sight, and he realized with a start that Roman was shielding him from whatever was happening. 

“I’m not going anywhere. Look at me, alright? Just focus on me,”

There was a crash and a slam and Virgil jumped, crying out again at the pain that caused. He tried to get his sobs under control as the room became empty except for them. Roman leaned forward and rested his head against Virgil’s chest, making sure he took slow deep breaths for Virgil to copy. 

They stayed like that, finally settling into silence. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours until the paramedics burst through the door. Two of them, both male, pushed through the small doorway. Roman lifted his head and watched them, feeling Virgil’s nails begin to dig into his forearm. He began to rub his thumb over his cheek and hummed under his breath. They took places on either side of the pair.

“Shit, tight place. Stretcher’s gonna be tough. Pat, grab me a neck brace.” The mentioned item was thrown over them and landed in the hands of the paramedic who spoke. He kneeled next to them, avoiding the puddle of vomit at Virgil’s side. 

“Hey guys, I’m Remy. We’re gonna help you out, but I need you to back away. You did great, mmkay? But we need to help him now,”

Roman looked at the man and then down to his boyfriend, who was looking at him with fear. He was quiet now, but his bleary eyes were pleading.  _ Please don’t leave. _

“No. I’m not leaving him. Not a chance,”

He sighed, “Okay. Can you move to his side? I can’t get the brace on if his head’s on your lap,” Roman could hear the annoyance in the other man’s voice.

Roman did as the man asked and gently put Virgil’s head onto the ground, moving around so he was pressed up against his side, holding his hand. Virgil’s eyes never left him, but a weird cloud had settled over them. 

The paramedic started his work with the brace. On Roman’s left, the other one kneeled next to them with a blanket. 

“Hey, my name’s Patton,” He spoke to both of them, “I’m just gonna move the sweater and give you a blanket instead, is that okay?” Virgil nodded, squeezing Roman’s hand, and he shut his eyes tightly. In the split second that his legs were exposed, his breath hitched.

“All done. I’m going to ask you some questions, okay? Remy, how’s the neck brace coming?”

_ Click.  _ “All done. Let’s get a stretcher in here, somehow,” He walked back out to a third EMT, and they began to maneuver the stretcher through the tight turn. Patton spoke while placing a stethoscope against Virgil’s chest.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Roman looked down at Virgil expectantly, but his heart froze as he hesitated. “V… Virgil. I think. I don’t- Virgil. It’s Virgil,” 

“Good job, hun. Can you tell me where you are right now?”

His eyes shifted around and began to blink rapidly, “I… I don’t know,” the alarm in Roman’s eyes must have been noticeable because he quickly went on, “It’s f’miliar but I… don’t know. It’s where I work… right?”

“Who is this?” Patton asked, gesturing to Roman with his pen. He moved the stethoscope lower on Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s eyes began to flutter.

“M’ boyfriend,” 

“What is his name?”

Silence. Instead of answering, his chest started to rise and fall rapidly. Patton reacted before Roman, seeing signs he hadn’t noticed, and helped Virgil lean to the side as he dry heaved again, still hyperventilating. When he finished and was laying flat on the floor again, he answered, his eyes shifting between Roman and the EMT rapidly.

“I don’t know, I can’t remember, I’m sorry,”

“How many times has he thrown up? Or tried to, at least,” Patton asked, looping the stethoscope around his neck again and reaching inside his chest pocket.

“That was the second time,” Roman murmured. 

Patton pulled out a mini flashlight and gently lifted Virgil’s slowly closing eyelid. “Stay with me for just a second longer, alright love?” He switched the flashlight between the eyes a couple times, and Remy and the other EMT finally got the stretcher through the small door.

“What do we have, Pat?”

“Different sized pupils. Breathing is pained but stable. CSF discharge in his left nostril. Increasing confusion, starting to lose consciousness. Let’s get him loaded,” Patton turned to Roman, “Kiddo, I do need you to move away for just a second. You can move back as soon as he’s on, okay?”

Roman, still holding his hand, backed up so he was above Virgil’s head. “This okay?”

“That’s okay,” Patton nodded and the two moved Virgil onto the stretcher in one swift lift, making him cry out in pain at the sudden jolt. They lifted it onto its wheels and began a swift pace through the lobby, Roman glaring back at anyone who dared stare. 

When they got next to the ambulance, another paramedic jumped out of the driver’s seat and came back to help them. Patton and the new guy lifted it effortlessly while Remy broke the contact between Virgil and Roman for the first time and pulled the latter to the side. 

“Are you family?”

“No, but-”

“I’m sorry, we can only have family on the ambulance,”

“No, please! I’m his boyfriend. I don’t want him to be alone. He has really bad anxiety and a panic disorder. Please don’t make him go through this by himself, he’s going to be scared out of his mind,” Roman pleaded, looking at the man’s sad eyes.

“I’m really sorry, I can’t-”

“Remy, a second?” Patton spoke from behind them, and Remy sighed heavily before following the other. Roman could just hear snippets of their conversation, but he had to physically hold himself back from just jumping into the ambulance.

“Is there any way we can take him?”

“Pat, it’s family only. There are rules, company policies-”

“Since when do  _ you _ follow rules?”

“Party-Remy is the wild animal. Work-Remy follows rules because work-Remy doesn’t want to  _ lose his goddamn job! _ ”

“They’d let us off with a warning!”

“Girl, no!”

“Remy, please…”

“Patton, this is why you and I don’t get put on shift together. I do night shifts, you do day, that’s how it always goes, because-”

“I just can’t imagine if it was me and…” he trailed off, and Roman’s head lifted. The other hesitated.

“You’re a manipulative bitch,”

Patton ignored the comment and gave a sincere, “Thank you, Remy,” before hopping in. 

Remy groaned and lifted himself into the ambulance, poking his head out to look at Roman. “I know you heard everything. Get in, but don’t get in our way,”

Repeating Patton’s “thank you”, he jumped in and took a seat near the front, brushing away Virgil’s tears from his closed eyes and taking his hand again. The doors slammed shut and they were off. 

  
  
  


\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

  
  


The ambulance ride felt like forever. They had learned quickly to keep the sirens and lights off, seeing as every time they started Virgil would begin to panic. He had begun to slip in and out of unconsciousness, not that anyone was surprised, but in the rare minutes he was awake, all he could do was cry and hold Roman’s hand like a life line. Roman’s heart broke, and his blood boiled against the man who had done this.

He had no idea if they’d caught him. The last thing he saw was him break free of the hold the front desk man had on him and bolt out of the door, hitting Virgil’s legs in the process and making him cry out. He hadn’t even considered giving chase, instead using his body to block the sight, to keep Virgil distracted from what was going on.

The paramedics used the ride to write down his vitals and bandage the gash on his forehead. When they were done, Remy took a two way radio and prattled off a series of words into it that Roman couldn’t understand. Patton took a seat next to him on the bench.

“When we get to the hospital, we’re going to take him in to the emergency room to check him out, but you can’t come back there with us. Stay in here, and when the doctor’s have taken over, I’ll come get you. They’re going to need you to fill out a bunch of papers. And then someone will come get you when they’re all done and you can be there when he wakes up,”

Roman nodded weakly along with his words, rubbing his thumb against Virgil’s cheek, even though he was out cold. 

“Is he going to be okay?”

“I’m optimistic for the long run. I won’t sugar coat kiddo, he’s going to have it tough for a while, mentally and physically. But I think you being with him will help him a bunch.” Patton gave him a gentle smile before glancing out the window, “Okay, we’re here. Stay inside until we’re all cleared,”

It was a rush of people and commands when they stopped. The doors were flung open and the stretcher was rushed out, and Roman did as he was told and didn’t move. It took a few minutes before Roman hopped out of the ambulance, choosing to pace near it rather than sit in silence. He had done almost seven laps when Patton opened the emergency room doors and beckoned for him to follow.

“You okay?”

“I will be when I can see my boyfriend again,”

The other man gave a small laugh, “Makes sense.”

Patton continued to talk, probably just to distract him from what was going on. He led them into the large double doors and down one hallway after another, until Roman knew he would never find his way out by himself. Finally they reached what he assumed to be the final door. The paramedic pushed it open and let Roman walk in first. It was a simple room, chairs around the walls and a few tables, vending machines in the far corner, and a few of those winding ball and wire toys for kids you see at doctor’s offices. In fact, it looked like a doctors office, from the abstract paintings on the walls to the racks of magazines and children’s books. A woman was sprawled across three chairs sleeping soundly, but other than her, the room was empty.

“She’s been waiting for 12 hours for her husband to get out of surgery. Car crash,”

“Oh…” Was all Roman could say.

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting your boyfriend to take so long. Maybe three or four hours, tops,” He took a seat next to Roman and suddenly he was holding a clipboard.  _ When had he grabbed that?  _ “I don’t have anything to do right now, and you’re clearly shaken up. Let me help you fill this out,” Roman could only nod.

“Full name?”

“Roman Richiosa,” He spelled it out as habit, before mumbling, “It’s Irish. For ‘royalty’,”

Patton smiled. “Birthday?” 

“October 19, 1997,”

“Can I put relationship down as ‘significant other’?” Roman nodded.

“Okay… What’s Virgil’s last name?”

“Sanders,”

“His birthday?”

“December 19, 1998,”

The rest of the information was just insurance details and medical history, and by the time they were done, an hour had passed. As Patton filled in the last box, the two way radio on his hip cackled to life, repeating the same code twice. He pushed himself to his feet.

“I gotta bounce, kiddo. I’m sure the doctor will be over quick. I’ll take this to front desk on my way over, no worries,”

He tried to pass the time playing games on his phone, debating grabbing food from the vending machine, but feeling queasy at the thought of eating right now. The vision of walking into the room and seeing Virgil being raped circled through his head on a loop until it was all he could think about.

After some time went by, a doctor walked into the room, and Roman sat up straighter. He walked right past him and up to the woman, who had woken up and was talking on her phone. She hung up quickly. The doctor sat next to her and spoke a few words, hugging her as she broke down into tears. A minute later he walked her out of the room. 

The silence grew deafening until Roman had to get up and walk to the other end of the room. A pit grew in his stomach, and he could feel his hands begin to shake. He recognized these symptoms and quickly hugged himself, trying to avoid the panic attack he so often saw Virgil suffer from. 

Behind him, the door opened again and he spun around, squeezing his arms. In the doorway was a man with dark, slicked back hair and thick rimmed glasses. A stethoscope swooped around his neck and fell over his dark blue scrubs. 

“Hello there, I’m Doctor Starr. You can call me Logan. Are you Roman Richiosa?”

“Yeah, I am,” Roman rushed to the door, accepting the doctor’s outstretched hand and shaking it, “Is Virgil okay?” 

“We put him into a room in ICU about an hour ago, and he just became stable. I’ll take you to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: May 14 or sooner.  
> Much love <3


	4. Chapter 4

“We’re heading up to room 407, so please bear with the long walk,” the doctor said curtly and without emotion. Roman nodded quickly and followed him quickly, taking two rushed steps for every one long step the man in front of him took. 

“He experienced severe blunt force trauma to the head, resulting in a minor linear fracture to the back of his skull, but that’s not our largest concern at the moment,” the doctor swiped a key card and they went down a new hallway towards a row of elevators, “We’ve stemmed all we could for now, but the injuries caused significant internal bleeding in and around his brain,” They stepped into an elevator with already open doors, “There’s a risk of blood clots or high blood pressure from post-traumatic stress causing a stroke, but under a careful eye, any symptoms should be noticed right away. The EMT reported that-”

“Woah, woah, woah! Look, I know you’re trying to sound professional, but I’m gonna need you to tone down the doctor talk. Okay?” The elevator doors closed.

The doctor gave him a side glance and raised an eyebrow at the outburst. Roman put his forehead into his hand, tucking his elbow into his side. “I’m sorry. Stress is getting to me. Just… plain English, please,”

“Of course. My apologies,” he straightened his stethoscope, and there was an all too pleasant  _ ding  _ as they reached the fourth floor. He continued, seeming to struggle greatly with the prospect of dumbing his speech down, “I believe it is only right to warn you that he might not recognize you right when he wakes up. The EMT told us about his memory problems when he was picked up, and we’re… hoping that it was just shock. Worst case scenario, he could have long term memory loss, possibly permanent, although that’s rare,”

Roman froze. “Permanent memory loss? As in, all his memories, gone?”

Doctor Starr looked back with a sigh, “I’m sorry, this must all be very alarming for you. Like I said, that is rare. We’ll know more when he wakes up, hopefully within the next hour or two,”

They took another turn, to a large set of double doors labeled “ICU” in large red letters. Underneath, in smaller printing, it read “Restricted Access”. They walked through.

“What about… the other issue? How bad was he hurt?”

“While there was significant tearing, there won’t be any lasting physical damage. He should be able to fully sit up by the end of the week, but I’d say at least a couple weeks before we can get him back on his feet. However, that is more due to his head injuries than-”

Suddenly to their left, a woman in light grey scrubs swung a door open and almost ran smack into the doctor. “Logan, I was just about to call you, we have a code blue. It’s Marcinski.” A voice from inside the room called out:

“She’s flatlining!”

“Fuck! Stay here.” The doctor put his hand out to Roman in a ‘stay’ command and sprinted into the room, ripping his stethoscope from around his neck as the door shut. 

Roman stood alone in a now quiet hallway, processing what had just happened. Slowly he raised his eyes to the small window in the door and watched for only a moment as the doctor tried to resuscitate the woman on the bed. The monitor continued to show a steady line. Commands were shouted, people were rushing, and Roman looked away. If this woman was about to have her last moments, he didn’t think he’d be able to watch without fully cracking. 

He turned away from the door and looked down the long hallway. His eyes were drawn to the numbers on the wall, the only real difference between every identical door.

405, 406…

  1. Virgil’s door, if he remembered the doctor’s words. 



Logan told him to stay there. He shouldn’t go to the room alone. He should listen to the doctor in the ICU. There could be repercussions if he didn’t listen to the doctor’s orders. 

So naturally he moved towards the door.

When he peeked through the window on the door, he expected to see Virgil laying completely still on a white hospital bed. Bandaged, hooked up to monitors, maybe partially obscured by a tall curtain. But what he saw was nothing like he imagined. 

There were three nurses surrounding a wide-awake Virgil, and he did not look happy. He thrashed against the hands struggling to push him back into the mattress, eyes wide and full of anger and pure fear. Roman knew the look well, he had seen it today… god, had this all happened in one day?

It was the look Virgil always developed when he was panicked, when his bursts of anger began to get out of his control, like when Roman had asked him too many questions for him to handle this morning. It was one of the lesser known symptoms of panic attacks, and apparently none of these nurses knew what the  _ hell _ they were doing. They were constraining him, no doubt giving him claustrophobia. He didn’t even realize he had thrown open the door and was lunging towards the bed.

“Stop! You fucking idiots, what are you doing?! Can’t you see he’s panicking?! Leave him the fuck alone or I swear to God I’m going to-!” 

An awkward quiet settled over the room and at first Roman thought he had really brought the peace to the room. Then a voice spoke from the doorway and Roman followed the eyeline of the three nurses. 

“You heard him. Out,  _ now _ .” Logan, shirt neat and not a single hair out of place, gave the darkest glare Roman had seen in a long time. It was the moment when a tide recedes into the ocean, leaving only a peaceful minute while people of all ages run forward to see where the water had gone. Before a tsunami hits the beach and takes down buildings, trees, and mountains with it. One brave nurse stepped forward, while Virgil shrunk farther into the sheets, breathing heavily. 

“Doctor Starr, he was acting aggressively, we aren’t-”

“Am I not your superior?”

They all gave nervous glances to each other, and the same one spoke up, “Yes, sir,”

“Then get out. Immediately restraining a head trauma victim is a rookie mistake, and I will be reporting it to your supervisor. You have one, as I can only assume you are a medical student?”

“Yes, sir,” His face had grown a hundred shades of red.

“Then you have no jurisdiction here, especially talking back to me. Go wait in the hall until I’m done making sure you haven’t caused any lasting damage.”

The three medical students shuffled mutely from the room, shutting the door behind them. Roman wasted no time rushing to Virgil’s side.

“Stormcloud, oh god, are you okay? Breathe with me, okay? Four in, you ready?”

Roman took a deep breath like he always did when calming Virgil down, but he got no response from his shaking boyfriend. He was motionless except for his eyes. They kept flitting between the doctor and the man in front of him. Gently, Roman reached a hand out and placed it on Virgil’s, only for him to flinch away at the contact. That hadn’t happened in… ages. 

“Virgil…?”

Virgil’s eyes finally settled on him, reading every detail of his face like a book. He was silent except for the gasping breaths every now and again that sounded like rattling pebbles in a fan. 

“I don’t know you.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Virgil… that’s not funny,”

But his expression didn’t crack. Roman glanced up to see Logan’s usually stoic face become saddened, before whipping out his phone, or maybe a beeper, and fiddle with the buttons.

Virgil eventually ripped his eyes away from the man towering over him and took in his surroundings; the machinery, the bright room, the agonizing throbbing in his head. Why was it so bright? He couldn’t remember for the life of him how he’d turned up here, or who the two men were in the room. His hands looked foreign to him, were they even his? With every dull thud in his head, he sucked in another shallow breath. The room pulsated in and out with the beeping of the heart monitor. Why was it so fucking bright?! Suddenly there was a hand on his arm and he flinched violently. When had someone entered the room? A garbled voice spoke up, as if he were underground.

“Virgil, you’re going to pass out, love. Breathe with me,  _ please, _ ”

“I don’t… I don’t know you! Get away from me!”

“Virgil-”

And then everything blurred together. He gripped his hair and screamed, bringing his knees up to his chest and causing new worlds of pain to spread through him. Suddenly the needles in his arms and hands began to feel like a million ants were crawling through his veins. No matter which way he twisted his arms, the ants crawled faster and faster. Virgil began to rip out cord after cord as shouts of “don’t touch him” and “you’re alright” and “give that to me” were thrown around the room. He gasped for air as his ribs seemed to curl inwards, crushing his lungs. A sudden sharp pain stung in his inner elbow and he grabbed at it desperately, the new sensation causing his senses to go haywire. 

But then a hand grabbed his, not painful but firm enough to stop him from grabbing the syringe, and that’s when the anaesthetic kicked in. The second his struggles stopped, relief rushed through him, spreading from the injection point. It spread like a tidal wave over the swarms of ants, replacing them with dull heaviness. Virgil looked up from the hands holding his, his breathing becoming sluggish as the drugs hit. A black watch, blue sleeves, slightly crooked stethoscope. 

“You’re alright, Virgil. You can rest,”

He didn’t even see the doctor’s face before his eyes closed and he drifted into darkness.

\-----------------------------------

  
  


Roman couldn’t remember when in the chaos the hands on his shoulders led him away from the room. They walked down the hallway and into a small room near the elevator, and only when his pent up tears finally started to flow, did he realize who had taken him here.

“Shh, I know. Take a deep breath, hun.”

That was all it took for Roman to break down into the arms of the EMT from before, forgetting all his standards and how weird it probably came off. Luckily for him, the man didn’t seem to mind. By the time he had pretty much run out of tears to cry, almost ten minutes had gone by. Roman stood up straight and rubbed his eyes, trying to laugh slightly. He collapsed on the couch beside them. 

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day,”

“I get it,”

Roman took a shuddering breath, nodding. He watched as the EMT took a seat next to him, a thought occurring to him. “Why were you up on that floor?” 

“I was coming up to see Logan anyways when he texted me to come to that room ASAP. Logan’s not great at communication, but when he says something needs to be done quick, he never exaggerates. I ran,”

“You know him?”

“Pretty well, actually. He’s my husband,”

Roman was becoming used to the fact that this guy, whose name he couldn’t remember to save his life, always seemed to be smiling. But he couldn’t imagine him being friends with, let alone married, to that snobby, emotionless, robotic, nerdy-

The door opened before he could finish the thought, and in walked the man in question. His corners of his mouth twitched slightly, but otherwise his face remained rock hard. 

“Hello, Patton. Roman, how are you feeling?”

_ Patton. That’s it.  _ “I’m fine. Is Virgil okay?”

Logan pulled up a chair, sitting  _ more upright than any human had in the history of mankind _ . As if it was his cue, Patton stood up and placed a hand on Roman’s shoulder. 

“I’ve got to go. Don’t let Logan scare you, okay? He’s a big softie. And that’s not his bad news face,” He gave Roman’s shoulder a final squeeze and left, closing the door slowly. And then the two were alone. 

“First off, I apologize that you had to see that,”

Roman raised an eyebrow, not expecting the apology, “It’s okay. I’m pretty sure it was my fault anyways,”

“Falsehood, I’m quite sure he would have reacted that way to anyone,”

‘ _ Falsehood’. Who talks like that?  _ “What happened after I left? And please keep it simple,”

“I gave Virgil some general aesthetic to begin the process of slipping him into a medical coma. His MRI results showed that he has some significant brain swelling, and due to a high stroke risk in extreme stress, I believe that is the best option. Another doctor is overseeing the transition at the moment so I could come talk to you,”

Shockingly, this was the most calming thing Roman had heard all day. At least in a coma, Virgil wouldn’t be in pain.

“For how long?”

“Oh, a week at most. Just until the swelling has gone down enough to not be a hazard if he has another panic attack,”

“Yeah, he has… intense anxiety,” Roman played with a piece of lint he’d found in his pocket, and then quietly said, “He didn’t recognize me… I know you said that he might not, but I just wasn’t-”

Just then, the intercom above them crackled to life, calling Logan to the front desk. He apologized quickly and left Roman alone. 

He returned half an hour later with a pair of police officers. They’d found the man responsible at a bus stop downtown and had him in custody, and they needed Roman to come down and give a statement. After writing down the hospital’s number and Logan’s extension on his hand, he went with them, spending the rest of the night describing the attack as best he could.

His night was haunted with dreams of it, over and over again. 

Next update May 25 or earlier

<3


	6. Chapter 6

Life had become a mess. The first week Virgil was in the hospital, he hadn’t been permitted visitors, Logan’s orders. Due to Virgil’s bad reaction to seeing Roman, the ban had included him, even though he wasn’t awake yet either way. It was arguably the longest week in Roman’s life. The moments he had instinctively called Virgil’s name at home, for dinner or when he came home after work, hit him like a sack of bricks. So the day the visiting ban was lifted, a new routine began.   
Leave the house at 8 to teach his acting classes until noon, go to the hospital and visit Virgil. Rehearsals started at 3 and went until 8pm, then go back to the hospital until visitor hours ended. And the hospital trips hadn’t been easy. In fact, they tired Roman out more than anything else in his day.

On the first day, Roman walked in with high hopes. There was a good chance that the amnesia was wearing off, or at least showed signs that it would soon. He had brought Virgil’s pillow, the one he couldn’t sleep without, and a small purple bear he’d picked up on the way here. Virgil’s one weakness had always been stuffed animals, even though he would rather die than admit it. After a decent amount of scrambling trying to find his new room, as he’d been moved out of the ICU after waking up days before, he arrived at the right door. But when he walked in, Virgil was sound asleep. He stayed until rehearsal, and came after again. Logan told him that Virgil had woken up for a brief time while he’d been gone, but had passed out quickly again. He would be needing a lot of sleep to recover, and he was pumped full of morphine to keep his pain levels (and therefore his stress levels) down. He left the bear on the side table and the pillow next to his boyfriend’s head. 

Second day was mostly the same. His hopes were still high, but Virgil still didn’t wake up during the first visit. He’d brought a big duffel bag of Virgil’s favorite clothes, since he knew that Virgil would hate the hospital gown. When he came back in the evening, the teddy bear and pillow had been thrown across the room. He picked them up and gently put them back in their respective places before leaving the room, trying to ignore the heavy weight on his shoulders. 

It wasn’t until day three when Roman saw Virgil awake. He followed the now-familiar route down the hall from the elevator until he reached Virgil’s room, peaking through the window as was his habit. His heart gave a jump when he saw his boyfriend half-sitting in his bed, the back lifted just enough so he could comfortably examine the teddy bear in his hands, the pillow propped behind his back. He was still in the hospital gown, but had pulled on his black and purple hoodie. With his thumb, he was combing the fur between the bear’s ears in rhythm with the heart monitor beside him. The shades were drawn shut and the lights were off, he assumed because of Virgil’s head injuries. The only source of light was from the beeping machines and the light from the hall.   
Roman pushed the door open slowly, smiling widely at his boyfriend. He glanced up from the bear, staring at Roman through his bangs. His face didn’t flinch at all, not the slightest smile pulling at his split lip or the usual twinkle in his now dark eyes. He blinked twice, seemingly unbothered by the silence in the room.  
He returned his gaze to the stuffed animal in his hands, gently putting it down and beginning to roll up his sleeve.

“Virgil?”

He froze and looked back up, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yeah…?” Roman laughed slightly, taking an uneasy step towards the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“You… have to take my blood pressure right? That’s the first thing all the other doctors do.”

Roman blinked. He followed Virgil’s gaze to his own outfit and it clicked; he had just come from rehearsal. His red v-neck and black joggers probably resembled scrubs more than he had thought. And Virgil still didn’t remember him… at all.  
He chuckled disbelievingly, a humorless sound to try and lighten the mood.

“You think I’m a doctor?”

Virgil’s eyes darkened and his hands gripped the blanket. “Oh yeah, laugh. Because that helps.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Roman grabbed the chair next to the bed and sat on it slowly, eyes never wavering. “Sorry,”

“Whatever.”

Roman remembered this version of his boyfriend. The version that built up a barrier and didn’t let anyone in. The one that brushed off any off putting comments with a snarky response. Granted, he hadn’t seen it much since high school, but he wasn’t overly surprised it was back. 

“You don’t remember me.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Well… we’re pretty good friends.”

Virgil gave him a once over, fiddling idly with the IV in his arm. He took a deep breath.

“Maybe I’m your friend. But you’re not mine. I don’t know you.”

“That’s okay. Allow me to introduce myself-” He extended his hand, jolting his pocket and causing his keys to fall onto the floor. He reached down to pick them up, grabbing them by the metal crown keychain. He held the small emblem between his fingers, remembering when they had found a tiny gas station/gift shop after getting lost on the road trip. He had gotten the crown, and Virgil had found a small storm cloud. He’d always been weirdly obsessed with storms.   
It had been a hot day, and they were going to visit Roman’s mom and step-father, who was more of a father to Roman than his biological one ever was. They rarely saw each other, but the two had accepted Virgil into the small family with open arms. It was almost a full day’s drive. A flight would have been easier and they could afford it, but secretly they both were fine with spending a whole day together uninterrupted. Even in Roman’s cramped car, even though the sun blinded them, even though they tried to take a shortcut and got hopelessly lost. The gas station they finally found with a mile worth of gas left in the tank was small and didn’t have a working AC, but the slushie machine worked. They loaded up on those, a couple bags of beef jerky, and filled the tank to the brim. They might have been four hours late to dinner, but their new matching keychains were worth the detour. Right then, their nicknames for each other were born.   
Roman smiled at the memory, pocketing the keys again. He put his hand out towards Virgil.

“You can call me Princey.”

Day four, and Roman walked in with newfound joy. Even if Virgil had called him ‘prestigious’ and he hadn’t gotten anywhere with his hopes of Virgil remembering in a cliche romantic moment. He just got off the elevator and was signing in at the desk when Dr. Starr, Logan, rounded the corner. 

“Ah… Roman, correct?”

“Yeah. I’m just here to visit Virgil,”

“About that. May I talk to you for a moment?”

Roman silently followed Logan into a small room, with an almost identical layout as the one from weeks ago. He took Logan’s invitation to sit in one of the three chairs as the doctor explained he stayed on as Virgil’s doctor during the switch from ICU to keep some continuity in his life and make the transition easier. Roman listened with a sinking heart as he explained that apparently Virgil needed a few days to relax by himself, especially since he wasn’t in ICU anymore, and had asked not to have any visitors for a few days. 

“Even me…?”

“I’m sorry, Roman. But in Virgil’s eyes, you are a stranger.” Ouch. “You should know better than anyone that Virgil is easily overwhelmed,”

So Roman left the hospital disappointed, but assured by Logan that he could come in a couple days. And he had a plan.

Day 6. Somehow, he’d remained in good spirits. Today he felt especially hopeful. In his pocket, he had a stack of old pictures he’d found after some digging in Virgil’s closet. Maybe some of the people in them would trigger a memory. And then bam, they would all come flooding back, Virgil would remember him, they would kiss, and all would be right with the world. So sue him, he was a romantic.   
A nurse was talking to Virgil when Roman entered, so he awkwardly decided to just stand in the doorway. She was murmuring something about a new movie that had just come out, and he listened half heartedly as she took his blood pressure. In his other hand he held the little purple bear. He was finally in his own clothes, wearing a dark gray pair of sweatpants and a black shirt with some obscure band logo on it. Roman had gotten it for him as a surprise after he’d geeked out at it through the Hot Topic window, even though Roman still didn’t know a single song by them.  
She took the cuff off with a loud rip of velcro and started to pack up.

“Your vitals are staying strong; I’m glad to see that. Those stitches will need just a couple more days to completely dissolve. Did Doctor Starr talk to you about post-concussion syndrome?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good. How are the pain meds?”

“Fine.”

“Wonderful. If you need me, just ring,”

As she pushed her cart out, she saw Roman for the first time. She gave him a sympathetic look and walked past him, leaving the two alone.

“You’re back.” Virgil stated.

“I am.” Roman took his spot on the chair again, “Sounds like you’re healing well,”

“Physically, maybe.” Virgil began to fidget with a loose thread on the blankets. “I still don’t remember anything. I don’t even remember what happened. I can assume, but I don’t actually remember. The cops came in here a couple days ago and grilled me for like an hour on ‘is this the guy’ and ‘what was your relationship with him’ and ‘tell me what happened in your own words’ and there’s only so many ways of saying ‘I don’t know’ until-”

Roman was quiet.

“Ugh, why am I even talking to you? I don’t know you,” With a huff, Virgil turned as much away from Roman as he could, so pretty much just his head, and pulled the blanket up over himself. “Do me a favor and leave.”

Roman’s heart sunk into his stomach. It was one thing to hear the dismissal from Logan, but another one to hear it from Virgil himself. “Can you do me a favor first? And then I’ll leave, I promise,”  
Virgil sighed and took a beat, as if weighing the pros and cons.

“What’s stopping me from just pushing my emergency button?”

“Because we both know attention is the last thing you want,”

He finally turned back around, eyes tired. His mouth opened for a moment, like he wanted to retort, but there was nothing really he could say. This stranger next to him was right, unfortunately. 

“Fine. What do you want, Princey?”

Roman couldn’t help but smile at the nickname as he pulled the stack of pictures from his pocket. He leafed through them, finding a selfie of the two of them in front of the old gas station. 

“This is me and you. Do you remember this?”

“No,”

“Nothing? Like any subtle feeling or-”

“I said no,”

Roman nodded and kept going through the pile. One of Virgil and the tech team from their senior year, no response. Class pictures, opening show selfies, the day Roman got his new car. He skipped past the pictures of Virgil’s first day of work. Finally he arrived at one that made him hold his breath.   
His parents stood, arm in arm, while a tiny Virgil stood between them, shining a gap-toothed grin at that camera. Roman took a deep breath and showed Virgil the first and only photo of both of his parents. This time he wasn’t met with an immediate ‘no’.

“Anything, V?”

“I don’t… know,”

“How can you not know?”

“I just… it’s not a no. But not a yes,”

“C’mon, don’t tell me you can’t recognize your own parents-”

“Well, I don’t, okay?! It’s not my fault, don’t you get that?!”

“I-”

“Get out! Get the fuck out!”

Roman nodded mutely and set the pictures on the nightstand. At least Virgil had given him a shot and taken a look at them. Maybe if he left them here, he could look through them again on his own time. As he pressed the button of the elevator, he froze.   
He had felt something towards the picture of his parents. There was someone else, another picture, or rather a stack of them, that might get Virgil’s memory going. A pile from years ago that they wanted to throw away but were both attached to. And it was really a last resort, as in he honestly couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he was willing to try anything. 

Day 7, and the first time Roman walked in defeatedly. He was really pulling out a final hope with these pictures, the pictures of Virgil with the person he hadn’t ever wanted to see again.   
He walked up to the front desk and asked to talk to Doctor Starr, who walked out of the office a minute later. After explaining the issue from the day before, Logan agreed, albeit reluctantly, to show them to Virgil so Roman wouldn’t stress him out again.   
Which led to Roman watching from the small window as Logan talked to his boyfriend. Surprisingly, Virgil seemed completely at peace with the man. Roman couldn’t stand him. They talked for a minute, muted by the door, but he could tell it was going well.   
Logan presented the stack of pictures, and after a moment of confusion, Virgil grabbed it. He shuffled through them slowly, analyzing each one like a ‘spot the difference’ game. For another minute or two they spoke before Logan left the room, letting Virgil keep the pictures. 

“He recognized the person, but he doesn’t know how,”

“Fuck.”

“Is this not a good thing?”

“Not really. What does it mean that he only recognizes him? And his parents, kind of,”

Logan sighed. “Well, was this person a part of Virgil’s childhood?”

“Very much so. Unfortunately,”

“I’ve seen this happen with extreme trauma survivors, but very rarely. The head injuries and trauma together have caused his amnesia, but his memories are returning, oldest first. They are the most unrelated to the assault; the most blocked part of his mind right now.”

“So… what you’re saying is he’ll be okay soon, right? They’ll all come back?”

“Due to the rarity of cases like this, I can not say for certain. Unfortunately, in the couple I’ve worked with first hand, the longer the person went on without regaining the memories, the more difficult it was to figuratively pull them to the surface.”

“English, Teach.”

Logan took a deep breath, as if to calm himself down, “The memories he doesn’t re… that don’t come back in the next few weeks most likely won’t come back at all.” 

Next update June 1st or earier   
<3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay y'all. Let's keep this party going.

A nasally, mocking voice picked up the phone, a fake accent he hadn’t missed in the slightest. “What do you want,”

“Oh, how I’ve missed that voice,”

“I said, what do you want.”

Roman sighed, burying his face in his hands. This was dumb. This was so dumb.

“It’s about Virgil,” The other line went dead silent.

“I haven’t spoken to  _ Virgil _ in almost five years, _ ”  _ he spat the word out like a curse, “What about him?”

“He’s in the hospital,”

A heavy sigh. “Still not my problem,”

“Just… hear me out. Please?”

“What could ever be so serious that my  _ strong, brave _ brother would be saying please?” The mocking voice grew stronger. 

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose before telling the whole story in less than a minute, knowing anything longer would lose the other man’s interest. He flew through the rape and the amnesia in record time. When the other line spoke again, the fake accent was gone.

“And… why are you telling me this? It’s not like I can help,”

“I think you can,”

“Oh?” The dumb voice was back and Roman rolled his eyes.

“His doctor says his amnesia is blocking out the attack. He’s been starting to get back memories, but they’re in reverse order. He knows nothing about me, but he can recognize his mom, and it’s been slow going. Doctor says sooner we can get memories back, the more we are likely to get. The longer we wait, the worse our chances are,”

“I don’t…” 

“He said seeing someone from his past might kickstart it, or help him. You knew him way before I did, maybe-”

“Roman.”

He straightened up at the mention of his name. He hadn’t heard him say it in years. It was usually just a spat out “ _ brother”. _

“Virgil and I… did not end on good terms. You  _ know  _ this. What makes you think that  _ I _ will be a welcome sight?”

“I thought about that,” Roman admitted, “But it’s worth a shot. His dad died a year ago, there’s no one else that has a strong connection like-”

“No.”

“What?”

“I’m not doing it,” He spat out each word with emphasis, popping ‘it’ with his tongue, “You love him so much? He chose you? If that’s not enough to snap him out of it, maybe you were just never meant to be.”

Roman felt tears of pure frustration threatening to overflow. He should have known Remus would be useless. “Fine. But I’m leaving now and I won’t be coming back until tomorrow. Maybe for once in your goddamn life, think about someone else for a change.”

With that, he hung up.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

On the other end of the line, Remus slowly put his phone in his back pocket. In the blink of an eye, his black and green bomber jacket was slung over his shoulder and he was out the door.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The nurse at the front desk looked up as the door flew open, and a man walked in with his head held high. He leaned on the front desk and gave her a shit eating grin, not unlike the cheshire cat.

“I’m here to see Virgil Sanders,”

She hesitated, put off by the unsettling smile, before blinking twice and speaking, “Are you family?”

“In some senses of the word, yes,”

“I’m sorry, only legal family members can-”

A voice spoke from behind Remus. “It’s alright, Nicole. I asked him to come in,” He spun around and came face to face with a taller doctor. “You are Remus, correct?”

Remus merely gave the man a once over and raised an eyebrow. “And you are?”

“Doctor Logan Starr. Please follow me,” He left no room for argument as he began to stride down the hall, and Remus didn’t have a choice but to follow. He  _ hated  _ following. 

“How did you know I was coming?”

“Roman said you would,”

“ _ I _ said I wouldn’t,”

“And yet,” The doctor stopped in front of number 407, the number being the only differentiating factor to the dozen other doors in this hall. “Here you are.”

Remus couldn’t argue that logic.

“Now, just as a precaution, he may become panicked upon seeing you, as he has been around Roman. If this happens, don’t be-”

“Calm your tits, doc,” Remus placed his hand on the doorknob, “If he’s the same Virgil as he was all those years ago, he’ll tell us apart, no problemo.”

“And what makes you so sure about that?”

Remus looked through the small window in the door, trying to spot Virgil through the mesh covered glass. He could just make out the blanket covered form in the bed. Turning the knob slowly, he gave the doctor a deadly side glare. 

“Because once, I was his boyfriend. We knew each other better than anyone,”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

7 YEARS EARLIER

“Viiiiirgiiil~”

Virgil put his book down with a smile and turned to his window, giggling at his boyfriend’s face pressed against the glass. He slid it open and Remus pulled himself through, setting himself on the bed in front of Virgil. As if he’d been waiting for a decade, he grabbed Virgil’s jaw with one hand and pulled him into a long kiss that neither wanted to pull away from. 

They’d been together for just under a year, having been friends for almost nine years before. The two had clicked on the first day of first grade, immediately becoming inseparable, but only starting to date on Virgil’s 15th birthday. According to Remus, that had been his birthday present. 

There was shuffling at the other end of the house as Virgil’s dad began to walk down the hall and the two broke apart hastily. 

“Go, get out!” Virgil hissed and Remus gave him one more chaste kiss before hopping out of the first floor window and bolting. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Dad, I’m going to the movies with Remus!” Virgil called through the quiet house.

“Pick up a hot chick while you’re there, Virge!” 

Virgil laughed. “I’ll do my best, dad,” He slammed the door behind him and raced to Remus’ car, hopping into the passenger seat. The other immediately pulled him into a passionate kiss, running his tongue along his boyfriend’s lower lip almost right off the bat. 

“Remus-” He broke away for a second, smiling widely, “Let’s at least get off my driveway. You’re not exactly the ‘chick’ my dad wants me to pick up,”

Remus pulled away from the kiss, confused. “You haven’t come out to him yet? It’s been a year and a half Virge, you said you would tell him when it got to a year,”

“I know…” Virgil slumped against the seat, yanking the seatbelt across his chest, “I’m just scared to tell him, Rem. We’re just getting close again since my mom left and I don’t want to ruin that. Just… gimme some time,”

“I thought I meant something to you, Virgil,”

He froze, slowly turning back around, “I… You do, Rem! You mean everything to me, it’s just that I don’t…- I’m scared that-”

“You’re going to have to decide eventually. If you do really think you’ll lose that relationship with your dad, you’re just going to have to choose. Me or him?”

Virgil was at a loss for words… Was Remus right? It kind of made sense, but was he willing to give up his only remaining family for a new one? They hadn’t even talked about their future yet. But no one had ever shown him the love that his boyfriend did… His mouth gaped open, but he couldn’t think of a response. 

“Alright Virgie. Let’s just drop it. I found this wall on the far side of Aaron Edge Park that is in desperate need of some repainting,” He reached behind the passenger seat and dropped a bag of spray paint onto Virgil’s left. They both shared shit-eating grins, the previous conversation forgotten.

“Dope! Let’s go!”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Aaron Edge Park, 1:47 AM

Ever since the first time they’d painted the far wall of the skatepark, they came back at least twice a month to cover it with a new mural and to have long secret make out sessions. Virgil was just finishing the final touches on a huge purple and black storm cloud, using his leather jacket to cover his nose with one hand. 

He pulled back to admire his work, still hearing the sound of Remus hard at work. He was doing something that looked like a sword, but he couldn’t tell because of the shadows cast by the older boy. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

School, 2:47 PM

_ V: Rem… _

_ R: Yeeess? _

_ V: Your brother just came out to the whole homeroom class _

_ V: It didn’t go well. _

_ R:.... _

_ R: Am I supposed to care? _

_ V: He’s your brother, I assumed you’d want to know. Class laughed him out, he hasn’t come back in for a while. _

_ Rem is typing… _

_ Rem is typing… _

_ Rem is typing… _

_ R: Not my problem. _

_ V: Well… I’m going to find him, just to make sure he’s okay. _

_ R: DONT YOU DARE _

_ V: What, why?? _

_ R: We don’t share. I’m not about to share you with him. Just do as I say and do NOT find him.  _

_ R: If you love me, you will not go after him. _

_ R: Do you understand me, Virgil? _

_ Virgil is typing… _

_ Virgil is typing… _

_ V: Yeah, I understand _

_ V: You still picking me up after school? _

_ R: Mmhm. Im gonna be late tho, car repaits are taking too long. _

_ R: Repairs* _

_ V: Love you _

_ R: Love you too, Virgie _

Virgil smiled at the nickname before tucking the phone in his pocket and going to find Roman.

Next Update: June 22 


	8. Chapter 8

Remus stood in the doorway for longer than he would have liked. He had been so cocky walking into the hospital, into the room, but now that he was here, he had no idea what to do. What could he say that would be an appropriate greeting after four years? And honestly he didn’t even know  _ what  _ he felt. 

It turned out he didn’t have to break the ice anyways. The form in front of him eventually rolled over, albeit slowly, and pushed himself up onto one elbow. Remus’ heart stopped, but Virgil just furrowed his brow.

“You’re the guy from the pictures,”

“I’m the- what?”

“The guy…” Virgil shifted towards the little nightstand next to him, pulled open a drawer, and shuffled through the pile of crumpled paper until he found a stack of pictures. He hesitated, not wanting to give up the only foggy connection to his past, but needing to know more. Slowly, Remus reached forward and took them, and Virgil let him. 

“I didn’t know you had these,” Remus whispered. 

The first one was the two of them, back when they met in the first grade. They had their arms around each other, smiling with matching missing teeth. The school bus was in the distance, having just driven off. If he remembered right, this was the first time they had hung out at Virgil’s house. They never went to Remus’, since his parents’ fighting there was often too much for even the naturally chaotic twins to handle. Who knew what it would do to an anxious kid like Virgil. 

The next picture was them, older by a couple years. Virgil’s parents took Remus camping with them to get away from the parent’s nasty divorce. Had they known that Roman even existed, they would have brought him too. But Remus had said nothing about even having a brother, and since little Roman went to a performing arts school instead, Virgil had no idea he existed either. The picture was of the two of them whipping past the campsite on their bikes, Remus in the lead. The background was blurry but their faces were clear; this was the most fun they’d ever had. 

The third one hit Remus hard. It looked innocent enough, the two of them smiling over the dinner table as Virgil’s mom took the picture, Virgil trying to hide a blush from the camera. A recently blown out tiny birthday cake was sitting between them, just enough for the four of them. This was Virgil’s 15th birthday party, with just his family and Remus, since he didn’t have anyone else to invite. After this, they’d stayed up talking for hours, until Virgil gave a rushed confession at how he was falling in love with him. They shared both of their first kisses that night. 

The rest of the photos were polaroids they had taken throughout their three year relationship, courtesy of Virgil’s obsession with polaroid cameras. Selfies of them at movie theatres and beach dates, watching the sunset from an abandoned Taco Bell roof, and finally, pictures of every time they painted the back wall of Aaron Edge Park. 

But while the photos had initially caused Remus to become lost in the memories, he realized he didn’t care for them much anymore. That phase of his life, the “soft” side, that was gone. And while the breakup was hard on him at the time, he’d come to learn that if Virgil hadn’t done what he did, he would have called it off himself eventually. They had never really had a future anyways; it’s not as if Remus could babysit him and his constant breakdowns forever. The life he was living now was perfect in his eyes, and it had nothing to do with icky…  _ relationships _ . 

“I mean…” Virgil took the pictures back with a wince of pain, “I think all of these are… it’s me and you, right? The old ones are familiar. Not that I remember them really, but they… I don’t know. Strike a chord,”

“So… do you know who I am?”

“You’re obviously related to that other guy that keeps coming around here,”

Remus couldn’t help the sneer that spread across his face, “Unfortunately, yes. He’s my twin. I’m guessing you don’t know who he is either?”

“No. He seems nice enough. But he introduced himself as ‘ _ Princey _ ’. I mean, isn’t that kind of-”

“Pretentious?” They both spoke at the same time. Remus chuckled.

“I’ve always thought so,” He looked Virgil over, an idea forming in his head. A way to even the scores, a way to prove that he  _ could _ get what he wanted. An idea that would make Roman feel the way he had, all those years ago. And not because he necessarily wanted what his brother had, but more because… well, is there any other way to live your life than out of spite?

“He doesn’t matter anymore. I’m Remus. And I am  _ delighted  _ to make your acquaintance.”

\----------------------------------------

Roman didn’t know why he did these things to himself. Sure, acting was his passion. And  _ sure _ , he would probably die without theatre. But tech week were always torture, even besides the knowledge that he should be with Virgil right now, helping him get memories back. It was the end of his third and final tech day; a monstrous cue-to-cue that had left him wanting to strangle parts of the ensemble and that useless light designer who, for the love of  _ god, _ was trying to light his red costume with a blue spot. 

So now, after three days of 9am-10pm rehearsals, he was more than ready to see Virgil again. He’d felt awful, not being able to visit. But he had to remind himself that Virgil wouldn’t die if he wasn’t there, and his cast needed him. He had only one day off before the two week run of the show would take place, and to say he was stressed about the whole situation was… putting it lightly. If Virgil still couldn’t stand the thought of him, where would he go when he was released from the hospital? He didn’t have any remaining family; the two of them had been living together for years now. And all of his friends would be strangers to him, so it’s not as if he could go there. 

Still deep in thought, Roman walked through the hospital’s automatic doors. He flashed a polite smile at the receptionist, who he knew from his many previous visits, and stepped into the first elevator, heading to the third floor. Down a hall, a couple twists to the left, and past a final pair of doors, and he was in Virgil’s ward. But something was different.

Down at the end of the hall, he could see Virgil’s room. As in, into the room. The door was open, and he’d never seen it open before. It was always closed to minimize sound and light coming in. Maybe this was a sign of his recovery? 

“Hey Marge, I’m here to see Virgil,” He tore his eyes away from the door to smile at the ward receptionist. She blinked in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, he was discharged this morning,”

He froze. “He’s gone? Where did he go? Why didn’t anyone tell me?!” His breaths came quicker and quicker, his fury almost making his vision go red. He had a healthy suspicion of what had happened. 

“Roman?” 

He spun around to see Logan, clipboard in hand, looking at Roman with sad eyes. He fought back the urge to snap the man’s head off. But as their eyes met, Roman was taken aback at the look of desperation in them, which was a shock considering the man didn’t usually  _ feel  _ in general. “Do you want to check if he left anything behind? He left in a hurry,”

In mute anger, Roman followed the doctor to the room. For the first time, the shades were open and the sun shone into the room, making it seem much brighter than it had been with Virgil not being able to handle light. A quick glance around the room and Roman realized that it had already been sterilized; there was clearly nothing left behind on the shining floor and neat bed. He turned to Logan in confusion, only to see that the man had shut the door. He still had the sadness in his eyes, and it was maybe the most emotion Roman had ever seen the man show.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you?”

“Because I’m concerned for Virgil. Your brother convinced him to get discharged early, even though I wanted to keep him here for another week, minimum. He’s not healed enough yet to be partaking in everyday life quite yet. He was barely on his feet,”

“Then why did you let him go?!” 

“He wasn’t in intensive care, I couldn’t legally keep him here. I attempted to persuade him to stay, but he insisted. Rather, your brother insisted,”

“Okay, one. Let’s cool it with the  _ ‘your brother’ _ . I don’t need the reminder. ‘Remus’ is enough. And two, what am I supposed to do? It’s not like Virgil remembers me. Like you said, ‘I’m just a stranger to him’. I don’t even know where he is,” 

As Roman talked, he became more and more choked up. By the time he forced out the last few words, he could barely breathe around the lump in his throat. He had seen the effects being with his brother when they were teens had had on Virgil; the depression, the self-harm, the eating disorder, the heightened anxiety. In fact, according to Virgil, he hadn’t even developed or been diagnosed with his anxiety and panic disorder until he started dating Remus. He was controlling, manipulative, and down right abusive. And now, being so vulnerable to anything, he didn’t want to think of what the motherfucker would do to his-… would do to  _ Virgil _ . He had to get out of the habit of calling him his boyfriend. 

“I can get you his address.”

“What?”

“Remus had to fill out a good deal of information in Virgil’s stead, so he put in his own address. I assume he’ll be living with-”

“Please don’t say it.”

Logan eventually was able to sneak the information to Roman, slipping him a sheet of paper with a number and address on it. The number was the same as the one he had Remus as in his phone, so he concentrated on the address, wanting to commit it to memory. He looked it over, his blood beginning to boil at the very idea of Virgil living with that sorry excuse of a man.

“I could get in serious trouble for this.”

“Then why are you helping me?”

Logan had returned to his usual robotic self, looking down at Roman through his glasses. With a gaze that could melt steel, he looked over Roman’s face, as if studying it would make his next sentence word itself. 

“Because if this happened with Patton and I, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone that stood in my way of saving him. If the dedication you put into visiting is any indication, you would do the same,” For the first time,  _ the very first time _ , Logan cracked the smallest smile, still with sad eyes, “I’m just minimizing the bloodshed.”

\--------------------------

As Roman left the hospital, the small sheet of paper in hand, he couldn’t help but wonder why Remus was doing this. The last time he’d talked to Remus, a conversation his mother had guilted him into, he’d gotten the impression that he wasn’t much of a dater anymore. It seemed he was more into random one night flings than meaningful connections, and he hadn’t even cared about Virgil being hospitalized in the first place. 

He dialed the number on the paper and held the phone to his ear, heart racing. No answer. He dialed again, and again, until the other end of the line clicked to life. 

“I’m going to block your ass,”

“Remus, wait!” He heard Remus sigh heavily before bringing the phone back up. 

“What do you want?”

Roman rubbed the bridge of his nose as he reached his car, opening the door slowly. He debated his next words carefully, knowing a full out accusation wouldn’t get him anywhere. “Virgil was discharged this morning. Did you have anything to do with that?”

“What’s it to ya, dipshit?”

“Quit the act.”

“I’m serious,  _ brother.  _ He’s not your boyfriend anymore, why do you care?”  _ That annoying fucking voice.  _ Roman decided to ignore Remus’ obvious attempts to make him angry, taking another deep breath instead.

“He wasn’t ready to be discharged yet. He’s still at risk for a lot of health issues, you should have just let him be.”

“And what, let you claim ownership of hi-”

“He’s not property, Remus!”

“Well, you certainly don’t have him, do you?” Roman was silent. “Oh,  _ brother.  _ If only you’d had an actual impact on him. Perhaps he would remember you if you weren’t so inconsequential in the grand scheme of life.”

“Just because you had an  _ impact _ , doesn’t mean it was a good one,” Roman hissed with every bit of malice he could put into his words. 

“Rem, who are you talking to?” 

Roman sat up straight, almost hitting his head on the top of the car. “Is that Virgil? Let me talk to him,”

Remus laughed, almost maniacally. “In your  _ dreams.  _ Well, looks like I have to go. So glad we got to catch up, but I  _ am _ going to have to follow through on the whole ‘blocking’ thing. Bye bye now!” 

Roman held the phone to his ear long after Remus had hung up, just sitting motionless. The pit in his stomach grew heavy as he watched birds fly back and forth on power lines, letting the silence wash over him like a blanket. A single tear rolled down his cheek as his phone buzzed, announcing that it was time to drive to rehearsal. 

How had everything gone so wrong?

~~**\--------------------------------------------------** ~~

**5 YEARS EARLIER**

_ V: You still picking me up after school? _

_ R: Mmhm. Im gonna be late tho, car repaits are taking too long. _

_ R: Repairs* _

_ V: Love you _

_ R: Love you too, Virgie _

Virgil smiled at the nickname before tucking the phone in his pocket and going to find Roman.

\- - - - - - - - - - -

Virgil found him in an alley next to the football field, sitting and doodling on an empty dumpster. 

“Not a very fancy hideout,” He said, gesturing to the dumpster, “Mind if I sit?” He didn’t know where the new found courage came from. Usually him starting a conversation with someone new would be out of the question, but for some reason, this guy… didn’t make him nervous. 

“I’m Virgil,”

“Roman,” He tucked his sketch book into the bag next to him and moved to the side, a silent answer to Virgil’s question.

“I know who you are,” Virgil laughed as he pulled himself up. He sat with his legs crossed and leaned back against the brick wall.

“Right. I’m the class fag.”

“Don’t say that.”

Roman looked at him curiously. “I’m sorry, are you…?”

“No,” Virgil said quickly, the lie burning a hole in his chest, “I’m just an ally. I’m sorry your coming out wasn’t… taken well.”

Roman nodded sadly and began to fidget with the hem of his shirt. “You know being around me is only going to cause you trouble.”

“I don’t have friends to lose, anyways.”

“That really sucks.”

“I’m used to it.”

They both sat in silence, Virgil fiddling with his hoodie string as Roman flicked the pages of his notebook. For the second time that day, Virgil broke the silence.

“I know you from more than just you coming out, and being class president.”

“Oh?”

“You’re in  _ every _ school play. I just do tech. Mainly lights. I’d rather be behind a light than in front of it. I helped out backstage in The Lion King. I was the one who grabbed you mic tape when Scar knocked it off during the fight on closing night? But mostly lights. I did the light design for Hakuna Matata since no one else could figure out the gobo,”  _ Stop babbling.  _

“Well… lights are very important. How else would the audience see me?” He suddenly adopted a new manner, raising his hand like an over dramatic royal, and putting on an off-accent. While the pose reminded him of his boyfriend, it hit Virgil like a train how different Roman and Remus were. Remus would rather die than be noticed by anything close to a spotlight.

Just as Virgil thought this, his phone buzzed.

_ R: Here _

“My bo…-rother just got here. I’ll see you around, Roman,” He hopped off the dumpster and ran to where they always met, a block away from the school entrance. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It started off as a wave during breaks, a smile during rehearsals, a quiet greeting before classes. It quickly turned into meeting by their dumpster every day after school until Virgil got picked up, and they quickly dubbed the place “their spot.” Roman was Virgil’s first friend that wasn’t Remus, and GOD did it feel good. Remus didn’t like when Virgil had other friends, which he hadn’t minded when no one wanted to even be close to him. But now being friends with Roman, of all people, he was always scared that things would go wrong and he’d lose them both. 

“Hey Virgil!”

Virgil spun around and smiled as Roman ran down the hall, waving a paper wildly.

“Look! Cast list for The Tempest! I got  _ Prospero _ !”

Virgil swatted the paper from his face, laughing. “I’m not into Shakespeare. Who’s  _ ‘Prospero’ _ ?” He yelled the last word the same way Roman had, making the taller boy sneer jokingly. He quickly dropped act and became bouncy again. 

“A magical, manipulative control freak whose brother is trying to kill him!”

His heart jolted for a second, but he shoved Remus’ picture out of his mind with a phony smirk. “I’m sure your parents would be proud.”

“Ugh,” Roman dramatically slouched back, letting his head almost fall on Virgil’s shoulder as they walked through the crowded hall, “Don’t even mention parents around me.”

“Oh?” He didn’t know what else to say. 

“My parents split when I was ten, since my dad is a raging whore who can’t keep it in his pants, so I live with my mom. I have this stupid twin, a little grease ball, who I’ve only seen like four times since my dad took him and left. He’s a total crackhead now, but good riddance, I say!”

He laughed loudly at the English accent he had slipped into, but Virgil could only smile weakly in response. He wanted to argue, say that Remus wasn’t a crackhead, defend his boyfriend, but he was too scared to lose his only friend. 

“What about your family, Virge?”

Virgil flinched, and Roman noticed. “Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me, if you’re not comfortable-”

“Nah, it’s fine,” He put on a brave face, choosing to ignore the feeling of dread building in his stomach, “My mom bolted two years ago, leaving me and my dad. But it’s mostly just me at home… my dad’s in the hospital for the past few weeks, something to do with his heart. I’m not sure,”

“I’m sorry… Do you guys have a good relationship?”

“Mostly. I mean… everyone has their secrets,” He let a gentle smile pull at his lips as he stopped by his classroom door. Roman kept walking backwards, wiggling his eyebrows jokingly.

“Don’t we all?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update: June 29  
> Love y'all <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for a toxic/abusive relationship, aftermath of bullying/violence, injuries.   
> Please be safe <3

**\-------------------------------------------**

**PRESENT DAY**

Every morning, he checked his phone for messages. When getting in costume, it stayed on the counter of his dressing room. After each show, he sprinted backstage to check it again. But there was never a notification that he needed. 

And honestly, he didn’t even know what he was waiting for. Remus had blocked him, and there was no chance he would make the first move to reach out. So he didn’t know what his hope was. He could stop by Remus’ house, the address on the paper Logan had given him, but he was afraid that would just make things worse. If Virgil did end up being in danger, he had to tread lightly. But he wasn’t giving up. Not yet. Maybe after the show, he’d have more time to breathe and come up with an idea. That was in five days. Just under one more week of performances before he could finally rest, and take his next step… If he ever figured out what that step was. 

He got home at around ten from a pretty perfect show. The audience had been amazing, he hadn’t missed a single cue, but he couldn’t enjoy the success. He kicked off his shoes and walked over to the fridge, actually hungry for the first time in a while, and was immediately disappointed by the contents. Or rather, the lack thereof. He tried not to think about the fact that Virgil was usually the one who did their shopping, since Roman was the one who liked to cook. A glance at his phone told him that he could still make it to the store before it closed if he went quick. He threw his shoes back on, groaning at how they ached from dancing in the show, and slammed the door behind him.

**\------------------------------------**

**4 YEARS EARLIER**

Virgil still hadn’t come out to Roman, although he couldn’t put a finger on why. Maybe it was the fear that it would lead back to him finding out he was dating his twin, and getting the same negative response he’d gotten from Remus when he first brought up his brother. He wasn’t about to lose his only friend. 

At that moment, in a more literal sense, that seemed to be exactly what happened. He had waited by their dumpster for almost ten minutes, but after he didn’t show, he started to worry. Roman wasn’t the type to miss their hangouts. If he had to, he would have texted. 

Virgil had circled the campus and was debating going to wait by the street sign for Remus, when he noticed Roman’s car still parked in the lot. He was still here… and hadn’t texted? Virgil’s mind began to race.

_ What if he hates me? _

_ What if he found out about Rem? _

_ What if he found out I was gay and was mad he kept it a secret? _

His phone buzzed.

_ Ro: Hi…  _

_ V: Why didnt you come to our spot? Are you okay? Did I do something? I’m really sorry if I did please dont be mad _

_ Ro: Hey it’s okay, deep breath virge. I need a hand tho _

_ Virgil is typing… _

_ V: With…? _

_ Ro: Can you come to the bathroom on the first floor pls _

_ Ro: Ugh I realize how weird that sounds _

_ Ro: It’s not weird I swear, I just need help _

_ Ro: Asap _

Virgil didn’t even bother typing a response. He was already sprinting through the school, his footsteps echoing in the empty halls. 

He threw the bathroom door open with such force that it hit the back wall with a loud bang, making Virgil flinch. And then his heart stopped. Roman was sitting against the back wall, sopping wet hair dripping into his bloody face. When he saw who had walked into the door, he flashed a red stained grin, weakly dropping his phone onto the ground next to him. His words were muffled by the coarse paper towel held over his bleeding lip.

“Ah, my knight in shining armor. Wanna give me a hand?”

“Roman, what the hell happened?!” He hissed, taking a few running steps forward before dropping to his knees beside him. 

“I got cornered in the dressing room,” he gestured weakly to the conjoining room and Virgil noticed the blood spray across the door handle, “Some guy in my Phys Ed class said I was… staring at the other guys. While they were changing,” 

“What?!”

“I wasn’t, I swear! It was just his dumb excuse and-”

“No, that’s not what I meant, you don’t have to defend yourself,” Virgil brought up a hand to rub his forehead, “I’m not accusing you. I just don’t understand why they would do that,”

“I think they just wanted an excuse to-” he pointed around the room as he talked, “-hit my head against the door handle, and shove my head in that toilet, punch me a couple times, call me some unsavory names, and then push me into this here wall,” He tapped the wall he was leaning against a couple times before resting his head against it heavily. His head lolled towards Virgil and he gave another killer smile.

“Can you help me get up? My mom’s on her way to pick me up but I don’t know if I can get to the front of the school, I think I rolled my ankle or something when I fell,”

Virgil was quiet, choosing to not speak. He didn’t know what he could even say right now that wouldn’t make the situation worse. With barely a wince from Roman, he got the taller boy’s arm around his shoulders and got them both to their feet, using the sink as support. 

Together, they shuffled through the halls and out the front door. It had started to rain. 

“When’s your mom supposed to be here?”

“Should just be a couple minutes, I texted her before you. Wanna just set me on the picnic table? You don’t have to wait for me,”

“No, it’s okay,” Virgil did as he said and helped him sit on the soaking bench, before sitting next to him. “I got really worried when you didn’t meet me,”

“Why?”

“You’re… my first real friend. I was really worried I screwed up somehow,”

“That’s ridiculous, Virge,” Roman’s strong demeanor melted away and he gave the softest smile to the boy next to him, “You’re an amazing friend,” Virgil’s heart jumped and he mentally scolded himself. And for the first time…

For the first time, he noticed the little golden flecks in Roman’s eyes. They reminded him of crowns… little golden crowns that danced in the light, reflecting it like mirrors. And his eyes no longer looked brown. They had become burnt umber; suddenly Virgil could only think of hot chocolate and fireplaces; petrichor, the smell of dirt after rain; a gnarled branch that was growing the first flower of spring-

A loud honk tore them from the moment and they both spun around, and suddenly Virgil couldn’t breathe.

**\------------------------------------**

**PRESENT DAY**

He didn’t need too much food, and considering he survived most show weeks on junk food and tea, but he loved the atmosphere of a quiet grocery store and took his time. There was a soft pop song playing on the overhead speakers; the kind of song that you kind of just know the melody to even if you don’t remember hearing it before. Roman hummed along, grabbing a box of instant soup mix from the shelf, lost in almost a trance. He’d appreciate the food when his throat was sore and all he had was the Green Room’s water boiler.

Suddenly there was a loud crash behind him and he spun around, ripped out of his numb headspace. A rack of seasonings had been tipped over; the metal frame had caused the commotion. Thankfully none of the packets looked broken. But as Roman looked to the person that had caused the stand to fall, his heart dropped, the same way it did when you saw an ex or old friend in public. Or  _ whatever _ his relationship was with Virgil.

“Hey...”

Virgil didn’t answer. Roman wanted to sprint over and hug him, kiss him, just hold him again, but the way Virgil was looking at him banished the idea. He looked uneasy and scared, like he wasn’t sure if he should pick up the shelf he just knocked over or just run for his life. Despite everything Roman wanted to do, he gave a small smile and stepped forward, leaving his almost full shopping basket behind him.

“Let me help you clean this up,”

Virgil knelt down with him hesitantly, picking up spice packs while Roman lifted the rack up and slid the shelves back into place. 

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” They made eye contact for barely a second, but it was all Roman needed to see the purple and blue swollen mess around Virgil’s right eye. He slowed down his arranging.

“What happened to your eye?” Virgil completely froze, two packs of paprika in each hand, before lowering his head so his hair fell in his eyes. 

“I ran into a door frame.”

“Eye first?” 

Virgil didn’t respond, so Roman took that as a cue to drop the subject. Their rocky relationship wouldn’t be helped by endless prying. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your last few days in the hospital. I couldn’t get out of tech week.”

“It’s fine. I had Remus.”

Roman sighed, “Look, Virge-”

“I know what you’re going to say. And it’s Virgil to you, not ‘Virge’. You’re going to say that Remus is bad for me, and that I should leave him while I still have the chance.”

“How do-”

“He told me you’d say stuff like that. And he says the same about you,”

“You can’t just… trust me?” 

Roman helped Virgil put the last few packets on the stand, and they stood up. “Trust you? I don’t even know you,”

“Yes, you  _ do, _ Virge-”

“ _ Virgil!  _ Look, I don’t know, okay? You’re both telling me the same thing about each other, that I have to trust the one talking and the other one is  _ evil _ , but at least I.  _ Remember _ . Rem. I remember… being in love with him, and I know how cheesy it sounds, okay?! But as far as I’m concerned, I went to bed when I was fifteen and I woke up seven years later. My dad is dead, I’m twenty-fuckin-two, and I don’t remember any of that. Fuck, I don’t remember why I can’t remember! I  _ know _ why _ ,  _ but the  _ memory _ is gone! That’s really scary for me, have you considered that?!”

Roman didn’t say anything. What  _ could _ he say? Virgil hung his head as if regretting his words, like he was scared, fiddling with a pack of cumin.

“I’m sorry, Virgil,”

“I… what?” Virgil’s head shot up for the first time in the conversation, hair still flopping over his eyes. His eyebrows scrunched ever so slightly, as if he’d never heard someone apologize before. And maybe that was true, living with Remus and all. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have insisted. You’re right,” Roman dug around in his pocket and pulled out a wad of receipts, choosing one from the pile and shoving the rest back. “Do you have a pen?”

Virgil pulled out a graphite pencil from his hoodie, handing it to Roman mutely. 

“You’ve been drawing again?”

“Yeah… Logan said it’s a good way to de-stress.”

Roman hummed in affirmation, writing hurriedly on the receipt. He finished quickly, handing the pencil and the paper to Virgil.

“My phone number. No pressure, but if you need it, please. I’m always here.” 

Virgil looked at the slip of paper in his hand, playing with a bent corner with his thumb. “When did we meet?

“I’m sorry?”

“Me and you. When did… when did we meet? How old was I?”

Roman smiled slightly, glad to finally see the softer side of Virgil coming through. “I was a senior, you were a junior. So… 18 and 17. I guess we ‘officially’ met right after I came out to our homeroom class. And you found me sitting on a dumpster, and we started talking,”

“17… maybe it will come back soon. I don’t know, it kind of seems like I’m at a standstill. Logan said that the longer it takes, the less I’ll get back. I’m kind of scared that I might just be… done getting them back,” Virgil looked at the paper again and snickered quietly, almost in disbelief, his previous admission forgotten, “You signed it as ‘Princey’. Are you  _ ever  _ going to tell me your name?”

Roman laughed too, fighting a rising blush. God, it was as if he had an impossibly huge crush on Virgil all over again. “I’m a self diagnosed hopeless romantic. If you are ever to say my name again, it should be from your own memory.” It was an optimistic statement, and one that Roman prayed would keep the beautiful smile on Virgil’s face. It didn’t work. Somehow, Virgil got even sadder than before.

“Look… Remus told me all about me and him when he visited for the first time. About how we were dating for years, and he told me a bunch of stories of the crazy shit we did. But he wouldn’t tell me why we broke up. All he said was that I did something. And I’m not trying to hurt you, just… I just don’t want you getting your hopes up. I feel like, maybe this was supposed to happen, like I deserved it? The attack, the amnesia thing, Remus being the only person I remember… maybe this is my chance to make things right. To fix what I fucked up. Some cosmic karma… or something,”

“That could not be more wro-”

“Virgil! There you are!” The man in question whipped around, shoving the number in his pocket before Remus could see. He immediately began shaking, looking back and forth between the two brothers with panicked eyes.

“We just bumped into each other, I’m so sorry Rem, it won’t happen again,”

“I fucking hope not. Did you get the stuff I told you to get?”

“I…”

“Of course not,” He turned to Roman, looking surprisingly less angry than he would have expected, “ _ Brother,  _ what a surprise to see you here. Virgil and I were just getting some snacks for-”

“Did you hit him?”

The question took him by surprise. He raised his eyebrows, glancing at Virgil briefly. “Oh, you mean his eye? He tripped walking  _ up  _ the steps, if you’ll believe it,”

“I don’t. He said he walked into a door frame.”

Remus tightened his jaw, giving Virgil a low side eye that made him shake even harder. His hands fiddled anxiously with the sleeves of his hoodie, meeting the taller man’s eyes with a look of pure fear. But instead of blowing up like Roman expected, his brother’s demeanor remained calm. 

“Go wait in the car. I’ll be out in a bit,” Virgil scurried off, like a child wanting to avoid a scolding. He gave Roman one last guilty look over his shoulder before disappearing down the main aisle. 

It took a couple deep breaths before Roman could turn to face his brother, who looked less upset and almost… pleased?

“What the fuck did you do to him?” Roman could feel his fist curling at his side, but he kept his composure, if only for the one store worker who kept glancing at them nervously.

“ _ Do _ to him?”

“He’s been living with you for what, a week and a half, and the guy fucking cowers whenever you walk over. It doesn’t take an idiot to know you gave him the black eye, but there’s no way that’s it. What did you do?”

“It must suck, having a secret kept from you,”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Remus walked up to him until they were nose to nose, revelling in the pleasure of making his brother as uneasy as he was. He paused for just a moment in front of him, studying Roman with calculating eyes, before leaning towards his ear as he passed. Roman stared straight forward, tightening and releasing his fist at his side. 

“You lost him.  _ Hurts _ , doesn’t it?” He whispered, sending a chill down Roman’s spine, and Remus stopped behind him, as if waiting. The fucking sadist was enjoying every second of this. But what did he mean by-

Suddenly it all clicked into place. The memories rushed him like a wave: the pounding rain, the shock, the helplessness he had felt. The way a younger Remus had met his eyes, all those years ago, with a look of pure loathing. And with the rush of realization, his anger bubbled over.

“THAT’S WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT?!” He screamed. He spun around, gesturing wildly at his brother, “WHY?!”

“You took  _ everything _ from me,” Remus snarled, his anger finally seething through his carefully crafted exterior.

“But you don’t even  _ want _ him anymore!” Roman’s voice became pleading, like he was bargaining. He was fully aware of the shoppers and workers who were now watching the two and for the umpteenth time that week, he fought down the lump in his throat that he hadn’t let win yet. Remus’ voice dropped an octave, taking on a tone that Roman had never heard in his life. It held a darkness that even he immediately feared. He spoke slowly, calculated, with insanity in his eyes and a shit eating grin that raised the hair on Roman’s neck. 

“Yet, I have him. I won, Roman. I got  _ your  _ everything,” And like a switch had been flipped, he jumped right back into his stupid accent, as if the previous moment hadn’t happened, “And if you try to intervene, I don’t think you’ll like the measures I take.” He pointed his finger at him, like he was scolding a child. 

“Remus, what the fuck are you getting out of this?” Roman’s voice cracked. 

The cheshire cat grin was back. “The knowledge that you, my dear brother, feel the same way I did all those years ago: completely and utterly destroyed.”

**\---------------------------------------------**

**4 YEARS EARLIER**

A loud honk tore them both from the moment and they both spun around, and suddenly Virgil couldn’t breathe.

“VIRGIL, WHAT THE HELL?!” Remus yelled, slamming his car door and storming up the path towards them.

Roman made a weird choking sound, barely sputtering out a lost, “Remus? What are-”

“Why aren’t you by the street sign?” Virgil blurted out, jumping to his feet.

“I was waiting there for ten minutes! What are you doing with  _ him _ ?!”

Virgil stepped forward weakly, ignoring Roman’s confused looks between the two, “Rem, h-he was hurt and… and I was just help-helping him to the front of the school so he could get picked up and it doesn’t mean anything Rem, it was just for a moment I swear-”

“It looked like you two were having one hell of a ‘ _ moment’ _ !”

Virgil wanted to look at Roman, ask silently for his help, but he was terrified of the look that would be on his face. Disgust, betrayal? He didn’t know. 

“Rem, please-”

“What, are you two friends now? You’re going behind my back to be friends with him? Or are you more than friends?! I told you I don’t want you talking to him!”

He froze. Silence sat between the three that no one wanted to break. Virgil barely opened his mouth when Remus lost it.

  
“There is a reason Roman and I don’t share! We don’t share space, we don’t go to the same school, we don’t even share the same fucking parent, there’s no way in hell I’m sharing _you_ with him! That’s not how this works, it never has! And more than that, you went behind my back? You lied, you said you wouldn’t talk to him! How long have you been lying to me?!”

“I… I haven’t, I-”

“What’s going on here? How do you two know each other?” Roman burst in for the first time. Virgil hadn’t realized how short his breathing had become until he felt Roman’s hand on his arm that yanked him back to reality, grounding him. Remus’ angered breathing was the only sound above the pounding rain, only growing more intense as he watched them meet eyes. Virgil turned to Roman, not knowing how to explain this without looking like a total asshole.

“Remus is my boyfriend, Ro. I’m so sorry… I should have told you right away but I was just scared that-”

“Was.”

Virgil spun around to Remus, confused. “What?”

Remus lifted his chin, eyes darkening. “I  _ was  _ your boyfriend.”

Suddenly the rain felt like it was acid, burning a million holes into Virgil all at once. Everything was too hot, and too cold, and he couldn’t breathe. His stomach twisted and he felt sick. If he had eaten yet today, he was sure he would have thrown it up. 

Remus turned and stormed back to his car, balling his fists.

“Rem…” Virgil’s voice came out as a croak. He cleared his throat, following him in a half run, “Rem, wait!” 

“What?!” He turned on his heels and they were nose to nose, and suddenly Virgil didn’t know what he wanted to say.

“Three years, Virge. We’ve been together for three goddamn years. And friends for longer. Why would you throw that all away for  _ him? _ Am I not good enough for you? No one will  _ ever _ love you like I do! I put up with your panic attacks and your depressive spouts and I  _ never _ complained! I’m the only one who is EVER going to care about you this much. You really want to throw that away?!” 

“I’m… I’m so sorry Rem, please…”

For a split second, Remus’ eyes softened and tears pooled. He looked back and forth from his brother, still sitting motionless on the bench and the shaking boy in front of him. He shook his head. “Well, Virgil? Me, or him?”

“I can’t… you can’t make me decide that, Rem… please…” His already shallow breathing was almost nonexistent at that point. 

“That’s enough of an answer. Have fun with him,” He opened his car door and turned, hissing, “I fucking hate you. I never want to see you again,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp- Now you know Remus' and Virgil's backstory. I'm sorry my posting schedule is so shoddy.  
> For those interested! I have officially started a blog on tumblr, name is MaybeDefinitely404. This is where I will be posting my one shots and shorter fics, along with my theories and stuff! If you have a tumblr, check me out!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warnings for marijuana use, abusive/toxic relationship, implied dub/noncon (not seen), some violence, talk of past death, referenced/implied self harm, negative thinking.  
> I think I'm most proud of this chapter so far, not gonna lie.

“Welcome to Aaron Edge Park. We used to go here all the time,” Remus helped Virgil out of the car, his shaky legs barely holding him up. He looked around at the park, illuminated by the few working lampposts around the walking path. To the right, he could vaguely make out what looked like a playground, or maybe a small water park. The parking lot they stood in was empty except for a school bus taking up four spots in front of the play structure. It stood directly under one of the only working lights, so he could see the chipped paint and cracked windshield that made him shudder. Beyond the edge of the parking lot was a mystery. Shadows blanketed the ground under the broken lights, and Virgil felt a gnawing in his gut that something could be lurking in the darkness, ready to grab him. Apparently he had anxiety. That hadn’t taken long to figure out after waking up. 

Remus grabbed his hand and tossed his duffel bag over his shoulder, the cans of spray paint knocking the bags of chips and Red Bulls inside. In full honesty, he had no idea why he’d brought Virgil here. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, far from it. But maybe,  _ maybe,  _ deep down, he remembered the fun they used to have when they were together. Back when Virgil hadn’t betrayed him, when all that mattered to them was each other. When he had control over the situation. Technically, he had control again, he was the one in the driver’s seat. Roman was completely lost without his  _ little storm cloud _ , just as Remus had been all those years ago when they first broke up. But he couldn’t give up yet, not when he had just won. And since he didn’t really know what to do with Virgil, he figured he might as well get some fun out of him. 

The walk through the park took longer than Virgil would have liked, and Remus seemed to have a knack for avoiding the light. As they passed a particularly lumpy bench, Remus rummaged through the bag and tossed a box of crackers under it without looking. Virgil could hear the desperate shuffling and ripping open of said box, but couldn’t see anything through the darkness. 

“Trust me, if you want to stay in this park at night without getting stabbed, he’s the guy to bribe. A couple snacks keeps him busy, and he won’t bother us,” Remus said just a little too loudly for Virgil’s liking, his voice echoing off the cement wall of what he assumed to be a basketball court. He pressed closer to Remus, squeezing his hand tighter. 

“Don’t be a pussy,” Remus responded, pushing him away with his shoulder, but keeping their fingers locked together. Every step sent new goosebumps spreading across every inch of his exposed skin, and he looked behind him as if expecting something to be stalking them. He scratched the back of his neck, encouraging the standing hairs to settle, his fishnet sleeve brushing against the skin there, before quickly reaching down to fiddle with the hem of his, or rather Remus’, shirt. He still hadn’t been able to get clothes that weren’t in the bag he’d found in his hospital room upon waking up, but Remus sneered every time he wore them, so he was stuck borrowing his boyfriend’s things until they could go shopping. The one thing he refused to leave behind, no matter what, was the purple and black hoodie. He was immediately comforted by it’s sight when a nurse pulled it out back in the hospital, so even when Remus insisted he wear something other than the old thing, he still ended up tying it around his waist or slinging it over his shoulder. At first his boyfriend had complained, but seeing as it kept Virgil from spiralling more than he already did, he elected to ignore it. 

_ His boyfriend. _ It was a weird thing to think. Not because of the gay thing; no, he’d realized pretty quick he wasn’t straight. But a part of him was uneasy calling Remus  _ that.  _ Why should he, though? It wasn’t as if Remus wasn’t caring for him. He gave him something to eat, let him live in his house, and they’d even… 

A shudder ran up his spine, but not because of the cold. He could almost hear Remus’ words in the wind, reminding him that  _ if it weren’t for me, you’d be going home with a total stranger  _ and that he  _ put food on the table, don’t I deserve something in return? Aren’t you grateful?  _ Another gust, and it was if Remus’ hands were on him again, tugging at the articles of clothing between them, pulling him closer… He yanked the hoodie from around his waist and hurriedly pulled it over his exposed arms, sinking into the familiar comfort. 

Weren’t relationships supposed to have love in them? He looked up at Remus’ face, his eyes focussed and lip twitching as the distinct smell of pot hit them both. Love wasn’t exactly what he felt with Remus. At first, he’d felt positive that that’s what it was. They were in love and this was their story and this was the universe’s way of telling him to get his shit together. To do it right this time. But every kiss was scalding, and every yelled word scarred him, and every “returned favor” left him wanting to curl up in a ball and just die. Last time he checked, that wasn’t love. He’d hurt Remus before, though. And he didn’t remember how, he just knew he needed to make it right. Maybe he didn’t deserve love. 

Virgil didn’t even really notice they’d stopped until he bumped into Remus, letting out a small “oof” as his black eye connected with the man’s shoulder. He immediately let out a sputtered apology, but it fell on deaf ears as the taller man dropped the bag and approached the wall in front of him. It was equally as dark as the other walls they’d passed on the way over, but this one seemed to hit him differently. He clicked on the small head light he’d put on at some point in the walk over and ran a careful, almost loving, hand over what appeared to be decades of spray paint.

“I haven’t been to  _ this _ wall since…” He cleared his throat suddenly, adopting that stupid accent he put on sometimes. “It seems all our work has been covered; what a shame. I wonder how long it took them to realize it was safe to do so. We bashed a couple of heads in, back in the good ol’ days.”

“We did?” Virgil asked in wide eyed wonder, struggling to put on his own head light. 

“Mmhm!” He seemed all too giddy at the reminder of their violent escapades, “We caught some kids covering our pieces with those stupid bubble letters the little stoners seem to love. Long story short, they swore never to even come to this  _ park _ again! Everyone got the message after that.” Remus clapped his hands gleefully before reaching into the bag, tossing a can into the air before catching it and ripping the lid off with his teeth. 

Virgil finally got his light working, watching silently as Remus got to work, covering the bright neon letters with a streak of black paint. He sat cross legged in front of the bag, rifling through the contents and brainstorming of what he should create. There didn’t seem to be any shortage of colors, but he could tell by the labels that they were old. A few years, at least. Pulling his sketchbook out from the duffel bag’s side pocket, he flipped through pages until he settled on a piece he liked. He’d drawn it in the hospital; a large eye with a forest growing in the iris, a full moon replacing the pupil and vines growing out and over the eyelid. It would take a while, but judging how Remus’ face was barely a foot away from the wall and the can was even closer, they were both doing detailed pieces. 

At first, he was scared to mess up. He knew spray painting was a difficult art, and he’d never done it before. Or so he thought. As soon as he chose the shade of purple he wanted to the iris, his muscle memory took charge and began making quick work of erasing the expletives covering the wall. He raised the neckline of his shirt to cover his mouth and nose instinctively, suddenly getting lost in the piece in front of him. It was like he had unearthed a hidden part of himself, like he’d been yearning to do this again. If Remus was telling him the truth, it had been years. But as streaks of black morphed into trees and white splotches turned into stars, his mind quieted and it felt like everything was okay. 

Remus straightened up after what felt like an hour, give or take, popping his back and admiring his work. It was a green and black rendering of a dragon, spit ( _ or maybe blood! _ ) dripping off his waving tongue and torn wings spread like one of those lizards with the weird neck thingies. Or the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, the ones that killed the guy with the fake can of shaving cream. Remus squealed in delight at the memory before popping open a Red Bull, chugging half of it down like a dying man. He wiped his chin with a paint stained hand and plopped down onto the cement, digging in the duffel bag for the surprise he’d brought. 

Virgil didn’t even notice Remus had left his side until he was done his own, stepping back to double check the details. Even by his own self deprecating standards, it looked pretty good. Hearing the flick of a lighter, he turned around to see Remus surrounded by their snacks and lighting a joint. He took a deep drag, holding his breath for a bit before letting out a thin stream of smoke. With a dark smirk, he held the small object out with two fingers, enjoying the familiar burn in his throat. 

“Wanna hit?”

“Did I used to?” Virgil took a careful seat in front of Remus, glancing between the joint and his boyfriend’s face. He flicked off his light, like Remus had, and pulled the piece of gear off. 

“Yup!” A little white lie. Technically, they’d never gotten high together. But Remus was sure if they’d continued dating, they would have. So, same thing. 

Virgil gave a scrutinizing look, scrunching his nose at the smell. A thought popped into his mind. “Wait, no. Logan said that I shouldn’t smoke or drink for a few weeks minimum, not until my head’s better. It could… do something, I don’t remember. But I really shouldn’t.”

“‘ _ Logan’ _ ?”

“My doctor.”

“Ah. Well…” He took another deep breath, talking while the smoke seeped out through his nose and mouth, “I’m sure one little hit won’t do much damage. C’mon, for me?”

“I don’t know, Rem…”

Remus leaned forward on his knees, his face inches from Virgil’s, giving him a purposeful glare. “Don’t people smoke medicinal marijuana all the time?”

“...I mean yeah, but…”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

“Logan said that-”

“Oh, blah blah blah! Logan this, Logan that! Shut it with all the Logan talk. He’s a huge nerd anyways.”

Virgil sighed, biting his tongue. He didn’t want to start something. It always ended with Remus yelling at him, and that never ended well. He fought the urge to touch his bruised eye, near flinching at the memory of Remus’ fist flying at him. 

“Okay. Fine.” Remus whooped, passing Virgil the point. He looked it over hesitantly, but after another nod from the man in front of him, he lifted it to his lips and took a cautious breath in… 

And immediately went into a coughing fit, passing it back while struggling to muffle the loud wheezing. Remus apparently didn’t have the same mindset, throwing his head back and laughing so hard it echoed off the wall. 

“Ah, you tickle me. Should have known you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

That comment stung a little. Virgil let out a shaky laugh and made grabby hands for the joint, trying to stifle his coughs. 

“Just give me a second to get used to it.”

The second drag went remarkably better; he only coughed a couple times before actually letting the smoke sit in his lungs, breathing out sporadically to hold in another fit. 

“Here, wash it down.” 

He was handed a Red Bull. Now, these he knew. He’d had his fill of these already, living with Remus. It seemed to be the only thing he drank. Virgil was surprised how much better his throat felt the second the liquid washed away the burning, and before Remus could make a sound, he pulled in another hit and passed it back. 

“Well, looks like the little emo has some fire after all!”

They couldn’t even guess how much time had passed, shoving handfuls of chips into their mouths and downing can after can of Red Bull. Exchanging sloppy kisses and giggling about how strong the paint fumes were was the only thing on their minds as they took turns with the joint, Remus finally finishing it off and lazily squishing the remainder under his boot. Somehow he ended up with his head on Virgil’s lap (so sue him, he was cuddly when high) staring at the stars and listening to Virgil ask questions that were probably the beginning stages to an existential crisis.  _ Fuck,  _ he’d missed this so much. Maybe not this exactly, but just letting everything melt away until nothing mattered. 

He was almost closing his eyes when his head was unceremoniously dropped onto the cement, and Virgil jumped to his feet.

“Where they fuck are you going?”

“I missed a detail!” Virgil scooped up the white spray paint, jogging over to his work and setting about adding some reflection to a vine. Apparently he was too high to realize how mad he’d made Remus, and the consequences that might have. But eeeehhh, whatever. The taller man leaned back on his hands, choosing to watch Virgil bring his piece to life with a new found drive that only sweet sweet weed could give you. 

Suddenly, a bright light lit up the wall that Virgil was painting. They both spun around, Remus jumping to his feet as a loud voice yelled at them from a few meters away. He couldn’t make out the figure behind what he could only assume to be a flashlight, but it wasn’t hard to figure who the only person was who would light up this park at night. 

“Police, don’t move!”

So Remus did exactly that. In a flash, he scooped up their bag and grabbed Virgil’s hand. “Go, go, go!”

Virgil shouted some kind of protest, tried to yank his hand free, but Remus couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing in his head. He had priors, there’s no way he was getting caught. And he couldn’t let Virgil get taken in, there was no fucking way he wouldn’t crack and get them both in trouble. 

He turned off the path, watching the bouncing flashlight grow smaller as they cut through the trees. Remus was fit, pumped full of adrenaline, and knew this park like the back of his hand, so outrunning a patrolman who probably hadn’t spent a day off his little police cart in twenty years was no task. 

Virgil was another story. Sure, after his initial hesitation, he realized there was no easy way out of this. He could hear the man behind them shouting curses at them, his older voice a clear indicator that he was past his better years. So Virgil quickly learned that he was fast. Like, can-keep-up-with-Remus fast. And he knew that man worked out a lot, something about needing a high stamina for the guys he brought home. Not that he’d brought any in the time Virgil had been there. A part of him, maybe the high part, didn’t totally hate this. The wind rushing through his hair, the thrum of his feet barely hitting the ground before pushing him forward, and the sheer fear of getting caught making every single fibre in his body shake in excitement. But that was quick to end. Basing off the walk there, they were probably half way back when his head decided to start pounding, a pressure that felt like his brain was being squeezed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could remember Logan telling him to keep exercise light until he could get back into the hospital to get another MRI; a month at least. He didn’t exactly have a choice though. Every single step was sending sharp pains through his skull, and though he didn’t feel winded yet, he couldn’t breathe. 

“Rem, stop-”

It was probably a root or a rock, but next thing he knew, he was on the ground. His head hit the grass with an agonizing thud, making him see stars. The next few minutes were a complete blur. Somehow, Remus was able to pull him up and fling his arm over his shoulder, and all he remembered was watching the grass below him speed by under his feet. He blinked and they were driving down the freeway, Remus going well over the limit but obviously not caring. Virgil had enough sense to reach up groggily and buckle himself in, finally regaining his vision as the thumping in his head matched the beat of the song on the radio. 

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” 

“You blacked out there for a bit. Are you okay?”

“No. My head fucking hurts…”

“Fuck. I don’t want to take you to the hospital, Virgil.”

“What if it’s bad?” Virgil could feel his heart speeding up as his head filled with hundreds of outcomes, none of them good, “Logan told me rest-”

“Well, it’s not like we had a choice. Just… take a couple painkillers when we get home.”

“I shouldn’t have ran like that, Rem!” A few frustrated tears clogged his throat, a mix of pain and anxiety at the prospect of having to go back to the hospital. Remus hit the steering wheel with his palms, jolting the car. 

“The attack was almost a month ago, you’re fine!” 

“It was three weeks, and I almost  _ died _ ! You’d think I-”

_ SMACK! _

“Don’t ever. EVER. Talk back to me. Do you understand?” Remus hissed lowly, gripping the wheel until his knuckles turned white. 

Virgil fought back new tears now, hand ghosting over the bright red mark on his cheek. He nodded vigorously, biting his lip until he tasted blood. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Okay.” He barely whispered, too scared of getting hit again. But he couldn’t even be upset about it.  _ You deserved it. If you hadn’t stood back up to finish the details, chances are the cop wouldn’t have seen you. This is all your fault.  _

The air in the car felt too hot, and as much as he could in the cramped car, he shuffled his hoodie off, careful not to get in Remus’ space. With near vertigo from the effort, he slumped against the door, focusing on his breathing so he wouldn’t hurl. He didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if he puked in the guy’s car. It wouldn’t be good, he could assure that much. 

By the time they pulled into the driveway, Virgil was sure something was wrong. There was a ringing in his ears that he was pretty sure wasn’t from the music, and his mouth tasted like battery acid. Or what he assumed battery acid would taste like, at least. As he got out of the car, the world seemed to shift, as if someone had messed up the focus on a camera, and he fought down another stronger wave of nausea.  _ You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine- _

“What’s this?”

At some point, Remus had walked around to his side of the car, probably to help him get to the door. He was holding a piece of paper, and it took Virgil’s addled brain way too long to realize it was the receipt the man in the store had given him earlier. The man who seemed to know him. It must have fallen out of his jacket pocket. 

The look on Remus’ face twisted Virgil’s stomach, and not in the nauseous way. He seemed to read the paper over ten times, breaths coming faster and faster every time his eyes scanned the sprawled phone number. He remembered Virgil talking of his and Roman’s first interaction, when his brother had introduced himself as-

“‘ _ Princey’ _ ? Why the fuck do you have his number?!” 

He didn’t give him time to answer. Tangling his paint stained fingers through Virgil’s hair in a grip that nearly pulled the strands out, he dragged the shaking boy into the house, slamming the door behind them. He threw Virgil into the wall, ignoring his quiet whimpers as he ripped the paper into tiny shreds and washed it down the sink drain.

“You’re in so much trouble.”

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t going to use it, please-”

“You weren’t going to use it? Then why the fuck did you  _ have _ it?!”

“I forgot he gave it to me, I swear!”

Remus laughed; a cold, angry sound that made Virgil’s breath hitch. “You forgot?! You know what? Give me your phone.”

“What?”

“Give. Me. Your. Phone.” 

“No…” It was barely a whisper, not so much defiance as it was fear. His phone was his only access to music, or Youtube, or Netflix; apps that came in handy when he was home alone all evening while Remus worked. It was his only way to pass time, his only tiny comfort in the early hours of the morning as he waited for Remus to come back and pass out in their bed. As much as being around Rem put him on edge, being home alone with only the sound of their stoned upstairs neighbors was worse. He was always scared Remus would get hurt or be in danger (working at a shady club, it was always a possibility), so watching Modern Family or The Office was all that took his mind off the thought that if something happened to his caretaker, he was royally fucked. “Please, Rem, I need it…”

“Do I look like I fucking care?! You lost those privileges when you kept this from me!”

He ripped the phone out of his shaking hands, storming down the hall. Sinking to the floor in an anxious mess, Virgil pulled his hoodie to his chest in a lump and hugged it tightly. He shoved his nose into the familiar fabric, breathing in the scent of Remus’ deodorant and spray paint fumes, digging deeper to try and find the smell from the first day he’d put it on, back in the hospital. He didn’t know what the smell was, but it was almost cinnamon-y, and sweet. The more he wore it, the more the smell had faded, yet he never stopped hoping to find it again. 

Footsteps coming towards him yanked him from his thoughts and he got to his feet, leaving the hoodie on the ground. He didn’t know where the courage came from, but before he could stop himself, he asked, “What if you’re wrong, Rem? He seemed to really care about me, what if-”

The blaze in Remus’ eyes was enough to silence him.

_ Oh shit. _

_ Oh fuck. _

_ You’re dead. You’re so dead. _

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!” The man roared, giving Virgil new kinds of anxiety, “Have you forgotten  _ everything _ I told you?! That all he ever did was hurt you, that he was using you?! If you had your memories, you’d understand! I’ve done nothing except help you, and ask for barely anything in return!” He stepped closer and closer to Virgil with each hissed remark, causing the smaller to cower into the wall that he was using as support. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the blows that would floor him for sure. Maybe if he was lucky enough, they would kill him and he could leave this whole mess behind.

What he wasn’t expecting was a gentle hand running through his hair in the same place he’d grabbed before, soothing the purple locks back down, and guiding his face up to look into his boyfriend’s eyes. The fire from before had dwindled into embers, leaving him with a look of almost love.

“Sweetie, you know I only want good things for you, right? That I just want to keep you safe from him?”

Virgil searched his eyes desperately, lower lip quivering as Remus reached up and wiped a stray tear from his cheek. 

“Virgie, you don’t remember, but being with him, being with other people… it always ended up hurting you more. All the love they gave you, it was temporary. It always ended. And I’m just looking out for you. You know that, right?” Virgil nodded hastily, knowing Remus wouldn’t repeat the question as kindly. “Good boy. Now go into our room, and wait for me. I’ll be there in just a second.”

\---------------------------------------------

When his alarm rang, Roman wanted nothing more than to throw his phone against a wall. It took all of his self control to reach up and shut it off, remembering that he didn’t have to work today. His only task was the show in the evening, one of the final ones, and then he could finally think. Not that he really wanted to. In full honesty, he was a little scared of what would happen when he started to think again. 

He blinked his weary eyes at the spot next to him in the bed. Even though it had been empty for close to a month, he still never crossed the middle line, feeling like touching Virgil’s side of the bed would finalize him never coming back. The small stuffed spider on his pillow stared back at him with glimmering mismatched green and orange eyes.

With a small groan, he slid his feet onto the floor, trying to pop his back but not getting the satisfaction. It was sore; he must have pulled something during the show last night. The house was all too quiet as he padded downstairs. It wasn’t until he stood in the kitchen doorway did the events of the night before flood his system. He had abandoned his basket on the ground and gone to his car, knowing better than to follow Remus after his harsh words. The breakdown that promptly followed was not pretty, but he gave up on trying to put on his tough facade and finally,  _ finally,  _ let loose all the pent up emotions he’d kept under wraps for a month. It also meant there was no real food to eat for breakfast, but he could worry about that later. 

Even though he knew it was the dumbest of the decisions he could have made, he shuffled back upstairs and collapsed onto his bed, taking the stuffed spider and clutching it to his chest. It was the first time he’d touched it since Virgil left, and the cinnamon-y sweet smell of his shampoo was still on it. For the second time in twenty four hours, he let the tears fall. 

  
  


**\------------------------------------------**

**4 YEARS EARLIER**

  
  


“That’s enough of an answer. Have fun with him,” He opened his car door and turned, hissing, “I fucking hate you. I never want to see you again,”

The car drove off with a loud rev, leaving a plume of noxious gray smoke in its wake.

Virgil crumpled like a leaf, knees hitting the concrete with a loud smack. Roman couldn’t see the look on his face, but he could guess it wasn’t joyful. As much as it pained him, he shakily got to his feet, trying to overcome the sharp jabs in his ankle. By the time he had gotten close enough to hear Virgil’s quiet crying, the pain was almost blinding him. 

Nevertheless, he pushed past it and lowered himself carefully to the ground and put his hand on Virgil’s shin. He flinched.

“Virge, can I hug you?” There was no answer for what seemed like a long time, the only sound filling the empty parking lot was his heart wrenching sobs. 

Roman didn’t push him. Instead, he raised a gentle hand and set it on Virgil’s back, letting it slowly trace the bony spine up and down, over and over again. He furrowed his brow. Had Virgil always been this skinny?

_ Well,  _ he thought,  _ turns out there are a lot of things you don’t know about Virgil. _

As much as he tried, he couldn’t be mad. Sure, he was confused. Maybe a little hurt. But even though Virgil (who apparently  _ was  _ gay; he had been right when they met for the first time) had been dating his sleezy brother, not a single angry thought filled his mind. Honestly he hadn’t even known Remus was capable of love. However, he had seen the looks on both their faces. There had been something there, some kind of past.

“Why?”

Roman blinked, mind blanking. “I’m sorry?”

“Why would you want to hug me?” He hadn’t even noticed the crying had stopped, having gotten lost watching rain drops on a puddle. Virgil’s voice was void of emotion; gravelly and hoarse.

“Because… you’re my friend. And you’re hurting,”

“But I lied to you. I didn’t even tell you I was-” The sentence broke off as another round of tears slammed into him, making him sob so hard he started to cough. 

“I don’t care, Virge. You were scared, that’s hardly a reason to be mad about,”

The smaller boy turned to him with tears stained cheeks, eyeliner black smudges under his reddened eyes. Roman didn’t know what to do; he just opened his arms and Virgil launched into them, burrowing his face in his shirt, muttering apologies over and over through broken tears, until he was quiet again. 

As if right on cue, a small black car pulled up to the sidewalk, barely a meter from where they were sitting on the pavement. Virgil’s eyes shot open and he immediately scooched out of the arms that he felt so at home in. Roman followed him with his eyes before slowly pushing himself up onto his good foot, resting his bad one on the ground weightlessly. 

“It’s just my mom. C’mon,”

“I… what?”

“C’mon, V. Let’s go,”

“But I’m not… I can’t…” 

He put one hand on the door handle and extended the other one out to the boy still huddled on the ground. “Is your dad still in the hospital?”

_ Nod. _

“So you’re home alone?”

_ Nod. _

“Are we friends?”

There was a longer pause now, before he shrugged, refusing to meet Roman’s eyes. 

“We are. V, I don’t want you home alone right now. And I guarantee my mom won’t mind if you come over. Please, just for a few hours at least.”

He nodded again, even though his mind was screaming that this was a bad idea, and Roman pulled him to his feet. And he did stay at Roman’s house, for that day and every time after that that his dad ended up in the hospital again. When his heart eventually failed a year later, Roman and his mom were there to hold him as he broke down, and they never let him go again. He came to live with them, and through the depression and misery and loss that kept him in his bed for weeks, Roman began to realize the lengths he would go to make him feel okay again. Even though there was nothing he could do besides wait and just…  _ be there _ , it was in that time, during those long conversations about anything and everything, and when Virgil just needed to hug someone for hours on end, that he started to fall for him. It wasn’t until they were both twenty, when Virgil had been going to therapy for just about two years and was finally leaving his history with Remus behind that Roman confessed, filled to the brim with fear that he’d say no. After all, he had his brother’s face. Even if that’s where the resemblance ended, he would understand if Virgil couldn’t put himself through that. Not when his scars, both physical and mental, had just healed.

And even though his answer was less of a “yes” and more of a “let’s give it a shot and hope for the best”, it was the beginning to the happiest time in Roman’s life. 

**\--------------------------------------**

**PRESENT DAY**

The bittersweet memory was cut short by Roman’s cellphone ringing, and he whipped it from his night table before even being fully aware, one thought repeating in his mind over and over.

_ Please be Virgil, please be Virgil, please be- _

He was so relieved he’d been able to get his number to Virgil last night, even if he wasn’t sure if he would even use it, every notification that went off sent a shot of adrenaline through him. But the name on his phone was someone else entirely. Trying to cover his disappointment, he answered hoarsely.

“Hey, Joan. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. How you feeling, bud?”

He didn’t have the energy to even consider lying to them. “Not that great. I ran into Virgil last night at the store.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. And I just feel like everything’s building up, like I’m going to explode. It’s so much Joan… I can’t…”

“I hear you. Look, some people from the cast wanted me to ask if you wanted to join us for brunch, but I don’t think you’re up for it. How about I come by, we can talk for a bit?”

“No, I…” Roman rubbed his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Brunch actually sounds good. There’s nothing I can do, the distraction would be nice.”

Joan hummed a bit under their breath. “Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Yeah. I am.”

Roman could almost see the hesitation on their face as they responded. “Okay, I’ll come get you. Be ready in twenty?” 

He agreed and rolled out of bed for the second time that morning, determined to let meeting up with friends take his mind off the situation. As an afterthought, he grabbed his phone charger off the nightstand. Knowing his friends, they’d be out until their call time for the show, and there was no way in hell he was letting his phone die. Not when he needed that call from Virgil, because if he didn’t get it soon… he was a little scared of the thoughts that were starting to fill his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was our final flashback! A special thanks to everyone who's commented, I love y'all more than I can express. Have no doubts that I squeal (and sometimes cry) when I read them, no matter what.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contact has been made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warnings for: food mentions, general anxiety, migraine, vomiting, abuse and undetailed violence, getting drugged (assumed), deliria, blacking out.

Collapsing into Joan’s arms when they came to the door was the best thing Roman had felt in what felt like forever. Even though they were in the same show and saw each other pretty much every night, they didn’t really get to be alone, not with the huge cast they were surrounded by. Didn’t get to be alone, much less as open and vulnerable as Roman felt as he burrowed his nose in Joan’s shoulder. He let himself just be held until his stomach growled in irritation, signaling that it was ready to be fed. They both laughed, and  _ god _ , he didn’t realize how much he’d missed laughing. The sound was almost foreign to him, but he didn’t have time to ponder that more as he locked the front door and got into Joan’s car. 

“So, why is everyone going to brunch?” He asked, leaning back against the headrest.

“Some people are also in the next show, and they go up a couple days after we close. No one’s gonna want to wake up before noon the day after closing, so we figured we might as well celebrate now. It’s our cast party.”

“Holy shit, who’s in two shows at once? Even I’m not that stupid.”

“Well, you also teach like three acting classes.”

“Two. But I get your point.” 

Joan went on to list everyone in the next show, and give Roman a run down of everyone that would be there now. He appreciated that they were taking the time to fill him in completely, so he wouldn’t be surprised and overwhelmed when he got there. Usually, he was up for anything, but with the way his emotions felt like they were balancing on a needle point, he’d prefer being able to visualize what he was about to walk into. Damn, was this how Virgil felt every time Roman made plans for them? The constant anxiety, the fear of being thrown off course? He’d learned early in the relationship that Virgil was not a fan of surprises, so he was used to describing everything to a tee, just like Joan was doing now. 

And speaking of them… 

“-oman? Roman. Earth to Roman, do you read me?”

He chuckled slightly. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“About Virgil?” Roman’s silence was enough of an answer. “Do you still want to go? We can turn back and just hang out at your place if that makes you more comfortable. Offer still stands.”

“No, I’m good. Really.”

Joan drummed their fingers on the steering wheel, looking at him with slight concern. They quickly brushed it away, adopting a goofy smile instead. “Okay, well, you said you wanted a distraction! So I’m going to distract you. Remember how during act two last night, that one villager fell and almost tripped you? You’ll never guess why.”

  
  


Joan lived up to their promise, and the rest of the car ride was filled with laughing and more backstage anecdotes. He was surprised at how much he’d missed, always being trapped in his own thoughts, and a part of him regretted not savoring the show as much as he usually did. But Joan was a good storyteller, and after they had finished recounting almost two weeks worth of mess ups and improvised corrections, he felt like he’d been there for all of them. 

When they initially got to the restaurant, his stomach had done a few flips. He was nervous to finally see, like really see, people in a while, but Joan hooked their arm through his and led him towards the double doors. There were shouts of both of their names as they walked in, and Roman let a grin spread across his face. The two of them joined the group, learning quickly that they were only a few minutes late, and Roman breathed a sigh of relief. Since when had he been this anxious? 

They were quickly the scorn of the entire wait staff. No matter how much he insisted they stop shouting lines across the table and flinging tiny butter packets at each other, he was only met with ‘boos’ and tiny chunks of cantaloupe to the forehead (thanks, Joan). Soon Roman was swept up in the craziness, and as he had hoped, all of his troubles seemed to melt away. As tough as it was, he let himself have fun, knowing that he might as well have some before he returned to the real world. Banter was tossed around and racacious roars of laughter bounced off the walls, and as Roman dug into the first real meal he’d had in weeks, Joan retold to the crowd all of the stories they’d told him in the car. Sure, almost all of them had been there for them, but Joan’s knack for making any story ten times better made them all beg for more. 

It wasn’t until the actor sitting next to Roman tapped him on the shoulder that he heard it.

“Hey man, is your phone ringing?”

“Huh? Oh, shit.” Roman looked down, picking his phone off the table and turning it over to look at the screen. 

An unknown number.

His brain snapped between possibilities faster than he could even put the ideas into words.  _ It could just be a scammer. But what if it’s Virgil? Could be results from that audition a couple months ago. But  _ _ what if it’s Virgil? _

He grabbed Joan’s attention, grabbing their arm under the table and showing them the phone screen with shaking hands. Remembering Roman’s story of the grocery store from the phone call, they stood up and made a quick excuse, leading Roman outside as he struggled to accept the call. His fingers didn’t want to work, apparently. As they exited the doors, Joan reached over him and slid their finger over the green circle, silently noticing Roman’s panic. 

“It’s okay, Ro. I’m right here if anything happens. Just see who it is.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath. “Hello?”

For a second, he thought there was nothing on the other line. Then he heard it; the faintest sound of someone breathing, the gasps sporadic and shallow. He opened his mouth to speak again, to ask who this was, but the other person spoke suddenly. The words were oddly slurred and muffled, but just clear enough to make out.

“Help me… please… Roman I’m so scared…”

Roman’s breath hitched in his throat almost painfully, his heart hammering so loud he was sure Joan could hear it. 

“Virgil?!”

\-------------------------- 

  
  


Virgil woke up to his head throbbing. This had been the norm for a while after the attack, but the constant pain had stopped just about a week ago, so he had no choice but to connect  _ this  _ to the fall last night. He didn’t even have the ability to become anxious about it, not with the pain making his vision pulse in and out. He let out a long but quiet groan, squeezing his eyes shut and curling into the fetal position.

Wrong move. 

He bolted out of bed, feeling his way to the bathroom to avoid opening his eyes, and barely kneeled over the toilet before throwing up the tiny remainder of food he hadn’t digested yet. The toilet bowl was cool, and a welcome relief to his burning forehead as he rested against it, knowing that it was unsanitary but allowing his pain to take over his logic. Fuck, it hurt so bad. 

And in his pain, as his stomach lurched from his dizziness, and his arms burned from essentially holding up his full weight, he craved something he hadn’t even known he was missing. Like a hallucination, he could almost feel a pair of arms wrap around him. It was a phantom touch, but  _ oh god  _ it felt so real. He could feel the way one reached up and ran a hand through his hair, and he could tell that if it were real, it would be pushing his bangs back as he dry heaved again. In his mind’s eye, he looked back and saw a face, the owner of the phantom hands. The way his hair fell over his forehead, the dimple in his right cheek as he smiled gently, the glimmer of concern in his eyes were all so familiar, but still so distant. 

This scene had played out before, sometime in his ‘old’ life, as he’d taken to calling it. An image came to his mind; a truck stop in the middle of the desert, gas station sandwiches that had been sitting in the case for far too long, a family dinner interrupted by the sandwich deciding to make a reappearance. But that couldn’t be his family, right? No, his parents wouldn’t be caught dead in the same room, much less eat together. So who-

_ Roman. _

How it suddenly came to him, he could only guess. Maybe it was just that point on his recovery timeline, maybe the hit yesterday had done something. Maybe in his half-conscious state, his brain had been able to piece together the almost forgotten fragments of a memory. But it was a name that he could finally put to the face of the man he kept running into, the man who’d been there since he’d woken up. Nothing concrete, but as the name slipped past his lips in more of an agonized groan than anything, a warmth ignited in his stomach and made his heart skip a beat. He said it again, slightly more sure this time, and revelled in the way it forced a smile to tug at his lips. 

However, the smile didn’t last as the phantom hands disappeared one by one, leaving only one gripping his shoulder. But it wasn’t the same as the others; it was tight, bruising, loveless.

“What… did you just call me?”

Virgil froze. “Good morning to you, too,” He lifted his head groggily, meeting Remus’ fury filled eyes. A new emotion filled him, but he couldn’t put a name to it. It made him feel sick, but not in the way his dizziness did. All he knew for a fact is that the feeling was bad, and it was definitely caused by the man standing above him. 

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that!” Remus snarled, pulling Virgil to his feet roughly. He bit back a groan at the way his head felt like it was being split in two, trying his best to look Remus in the eye. 

“Okay, shit, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Virgil reached out blindly, grabbing the counter to steady himself. “It’s my head, it’s killing me.”

“Did you take any painkillers?”

“No, you didn’t-” He glanced up and saw the look on Remus’ face; the raised eyebrow, his eyes darkened, “ _ I  _ forgot. My fault.”

“That’s right. Now go lay down, I’ll get you some.”

Virgil let himself be happy at the offer, since it wasn’t every day that Remus offered to do stuff for him. It gave him a spark of hope. He stumbled back to their bed, laying on top of the messy blankets and relishing in the cool fabric of his pillow. 

He must have slipped to sleep for a split second, because when he opened his eyes, Remus was sitting on the edge of the bed with a glass of water and two red pills in his hand. 

“Hey, sit up for me?” 

Virgil was able to push himself up onto his elbows, fighting off his embarrassment as Remus dropped the pills into his mouth and lifted the glass to his lips. It was good though, because as soon as he lifted an arm to push the glass away, he collapsed backwards into the pillow again. The sudden jolt hit Remus, who was able to pull the water back with only a little bit spilling onto the blanket. 

“Better?”

_ Not at all.  _ “A little bit.”

“I told you, it’s fine. Give them some take to work, and you’ll see. I know what’s best for you, okay?”

Virgil could only nod. Rem was probably right anyways, he usually was. A hand gingerly took his chin and he opened his eyes blearily.  _ When had he closed them?  _ Remus looked down at him affectionately, running his thumb down his jawline. He spoke softly.

“Now, can you tell me why the fuck you suddenly know my brother’s name?”

\------------------------------------

Virgil didn’t know how long he stayed on the floor after Remus left, struggling to breathe through the pain that was possibly a broken rib. It had only been the one hit; a carefully calculated kick to his side that cracked loudly, but it had gotten a message across: don’t say that name again. He had avoided hitting his head, which in some sick way, Virgil was actually grateful for. He didn’t need anything else adding to the throbbing headache which still hadn’t lessened, even though the painkillers should have taken effect a while ago. 

Remus wasn’t an idiot. As much as he seemed like it sometimes, even though he was totally oblivious (or just didn’t have it in him to care) about other people’s feelings and seemed to ignore his own problems equally as much, it hadn’t taken much to piece together that Virgil was getting his memories back. The murmur of Roman’s name, the brand new look of defiance the younger man was giving him, it was a tell that Remus was losing his upper hand, and he didn’t appreciate that one bit.

He’d checked the time while looming over Virgil’s shaking form, unbothered by his pained whimpers. With a grunt that he had to go, he pocketed his phone and reached into the nightstand drawer, grabbing Virgil’s as well. Virgil wanted to argue, wanted to  _ beg _ to have it, but he knew it would get him nowhere. And he didn’t know how much more pain he could take. So he let Remus give him a kiss and nodded weakly to his promise to be back soon, and didn’t move off the hard floor. The ceiling pulsed in and out, like it was falling, and reset every time he blinked. He could almost feel the weight of it, crushing him, and then popping back into place to start its slow fall again. 

Weakly, he lifted his hands to stop the impending approach, as if it would do anything. In the back of his mind, he knew he was delirious, or half asleep, or something, but it was also a strange comfort. It reminded him of the times when he was little, trying to sleep, and he would lift his hands to the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, as if he could really reach the fake expanse above him. The weight of his outstretched arm provided a dull grounding point for him.

Wait,  _ arm _ ?

He wanted to lift both and create a triangle with his thumbs and pointer finger to outline the light fixture. Why, he didn’t know. It just felt right. But his left arm was a dead weight, unresponsive to his prompting. Like his brain wasn’t connected. 

“That’s not supposed to happen, right?” He mumbled, but he barely recognized his own voice. It sounded weird to him, off. Like after the dentist, when they numb your gums and you talk funny for a few hours. 

He let his head loll to the side. It was like in the hospital, when he’d spent countless hours trailing the IV cord from his arm to the drip, back and forth and over and over because it didn’t seem to connect. He was so pumped full of morphine, so high on the drugs, that he wasn’t even aware of the nurses coming in to check his blood pressure and the levels on his oxygen supply. But now there was no cord, the only thing close enough for his blurry vision to see was a bedpost. Was it a bedpost? It must be, he figured, as his eyes traced the sharp edges up and down and over and over, the drugs coursing through his system again.

Wait, that couldn’t be right. He wasn’t in the hospital, right? No, the walls weren’t white, and it was too quiet for a hospital. Right, right, white, quiet. The last one didn’t rhyme, and that made him upset. It dislodged something deep inside him, like a last piece of a puzzle that fit on three sides but not the fourth. Right, right, white, quiet. Right, right, white, quiet. Hold on, that wasn’t right. He said right twice. It was the same word twice, oh my goodness. Had his head not been in the process of splitting down the middle, he would have let himself dissolve into the fit of giggles that were bursting out of his chest. Oh, the things drugs do to you.

No, you were just over this. You’re not on drugs. Not hospital drugs, anyway. There are no nurses and no doctors and no  _ beep beep beep _ so it’s not the hospital. The only person who could have given you drugs is Remus. 

And  _ there _ was the clarity.

Remus drugged you.

_ Remus drugged you. _

Oh god, why else would Remus have offered to get him painkillers? Fed them to him without hesitation, looking so pleased when he swallowed them. 

_ Remus drugged you. You’re going to die, can’t you feel it? Your heart is pounding, you can’t lift your arm, everything is wrong and the ceiling is falling and you’re going to die oh my god oh my god. _

Now gasping for air, Virgil pushed himself to his feet with his good arm. It was slow and painful, and the room was spinning, but he needed help. Now. If he could get outside without falling, maybe he could get to a neighbor’s house and ask for a phone, or something. But as he approached the bedroom door, he realized that wasn’t going to be possible. 

His left leg, as his arm, had gone completely numb. He was able to reach the door, stumbling backwards as it opened, his thoughts screaming at him that  _ he’s going to die oh god he’s going to- _

He hit the ground hard. By sheer dumb luck, his head avoided the fall, landing on his outstretched arm instead of tile, but he knew getting up again wasn’t an option. The world tilted and he heaved once more, resulting in only a thin layer of bile on his tongue. There was nothing left in his system. 

_ Just stay here,  _ his mind whispered, and he almost took comfort in the idea.  _ Just lay here, die here. Let everything become numb, get away from all of this.  _

_ … _

_ No.  _ No, that couldn’t happen. He wasn’t just fighting for himself. He needed answers, he needed to know who  _ the man _ was, needed to know why that look of pure desperation always clouded his eyes when they saw each other. If the little bits he’d discovered about himself were anything to go off of, he wasn’t a very enticing person. So why was this man,  _ Roman,  _ so set on him remembering him? If he died now, he’d never know what he’d done to earn the admiration of such a kind hearted person. 

Also there was no way in  _ fucking hell  _ that Remus was the reason he was going out. 

So with his one good arm, he pushed himself up, grabbing blindly at the wall. His hands found a hold and he took it like his life depended on it, which he guessed it kind of did. With his new found inspiration, he started to haul himself to his feet, only for the grasp on whatever it was to slip and… open?

A door, of course. He’d grabbed the handle of the closet, the one Remus had never let him even touch. Questioning him was a death wish, so he’d followed the rule with no argument, not even bothering to take up headspace with curiosity. Now even as it swung open and something light knocked him on the head did he bother to investigate the depths of the forbidden closet, instead picking up the offending object. It took him longer than he would have liked for his pain-addled brain to realize the piece of plastic in his hand was a phone, an old flip phone that Virgil figured was for some illegal purposes. It was probably a safe bet, seeing as it was still fully charged and hidden in a space that he wasn’t allowed to spare a glance at. 

Fingers shaking, he pressed the padded control buttons, typing in the number almost instinctively. He’d read and reread that receipt paper so many times in the car before Remus had finished shopping that it was ingrained in his head. Sinking to the floor, his complete left side numb at this point, he held the phone to his ear. 

_ Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up- _

“Hello?” The voice alone caused sparks to shoot up Virgil’s spine, leaving him breathless. But he didn’t have time to think about that now, not with the way he was beginning to lose sight in one eye. 

“Help me… please… Roman I’m so scared…”

“Virgil?!”

“Yeah,” He let out a breathless sob, relief coursing through him, “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Holy… Oh my god. Virgil, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“No, I… I think Remus drugged me. I can’t move, I…”

“WHAT?! Virgil, I’m going to call an ambulance, what’s your address?”

“NO!” He heard the sharp intake of breath on the other line before he hurried to explain himself, “Please don’t… please don’t hang up. Please, I need  _ you. _ ”

“Okay, okay. Honey, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going to hang up on you. Just tell me your address, where are you?” For some reason, the pet name sat comfortably with him. Had it been a week ago, hell, had it been  _ yesterday _ , he would have been revolted by someone calling him ‘honey’. He told him the address, having memorized it from the countless times he overheard Remus ordering food over the phone, and slumped against the wall. He could just hear Roman repeating it to someone else before putting the phone back to his ear.

“Joan’s calling the ambulance, alright? Talk to me, Virge. What’s going on?”

He ignored the meaningless (to him) name drop and let another broken sob fall from his lips before whispering, “I remember you.”

“What?”

“Not… not totally,” Even Virgil could admit that his voice was becoming weaker. His words were slurring together in one big clump, and he wasn’t sure if Roman’s confusion was over the statement or the state of his speech. But his words were rushing out now, and he didn’t have the willpower to stop them. “Last night we… me and Remus… we were running from the cops and I fell and my head hit…” he stopped to take a few deep breaths, “and my head hit the ground and it  _ hurts  _ so this morning I threw up… and I saw you.”

“I’ll try not to be offended by that.”

A small smile graced Virgil’s lips, even through the layers of fear in the other’s voice. “No, b’hind me. And you pushed the hair out of my face…”

“Virge?”

“And I looked back ‘nd there you were, ‘nd…”

“Virgil?”

“And then I saw you, and y’r name kinda popped into my head, ‘nd I don’t remember much but I have  _ feelings  _ and they…”

“Virgil, sweetie, stop for a second.”

He clamped his mouth shut, closing his eyes against the suddenly blinding lights. “Yeah?”

“The ambulance is on it’s way, okay? They say they need you to unlock the door, can you do that?”

“I’dunno…”

“You’re gonna have to try, okay? Can you try, for me?”

Virgil gave a little hum of affirmation and grabbed the closet door, hissing as his rib protested the reach. The gentle encouragement over the phone became background noise as he focused on the front door, straight down the hallway, mentally painting a target on it. Each step was a broken limp, a shuffle forward on his bad leg and a precarious lean forward before his good one caught him. The limb was a dead weight behind him, the extra strain causing his vision to darken around the edges. 

Just 5 more steps. 

Had the hallway always been this long? 

4.

He barely caught himself on the kitchen doorway as he tipped too far forward..

3.

Every movement sent spikes of pain shooting through his head. 

2.

So close. Fuck, it hurt so bad. 

1.

He sagged against the door, gasping for air, and flipped the lock. Done. Finally, his legs buckled and he hit the floor hard, the phone flying from his grasp.

The last thing he heard was Roman screaming his name over the phone, and the world went dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of y'all who read end notes, hi! Just wanted to let you know my posting schedule is going to be a bit wonky, if that's not already obvious. I... haven't been doing all that great, and while I have ideas in my head, I'm struggling to write them down. But this story will not be abandoned! Chapter 12 is nearly good to go, and our conclusion will quickly follow, so fear not. (This story may be extended one or two chapters) Please be patient with me, as I really am doing my best.   
> Much love,   
> ~Ly <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: intense panic attack, violence, (very minimal) blood, allusions to past abuse, food mentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I promised this wasn't abandoned!)  
> Over on Tumblr I've been working on a series of soulmate prompts, so if you want to check those out, it's the same username as my AO3.  
> I know I've been gone for long, so I figured you deserve some happiness. Here ya go, kiddos.

Roman's pounding footsteps echoed through the bare white halls, his mind blank save for the floor number the startled receptionist had given up. It had been hours since Virgil’s line had gone dead at the restaurant, since the emergency operator confirmed on Joan’s call that they had found Virgil and he was on the way to the hospital. When he got there though, so stressed that his scalp hurt from tugging at his hair, he had been informed that he was no longer Virgil’s emergency contact. Stupid fucking Remus. He wasn’t allowed in the waiting room for said contacts, so he was left to pace back and forth in the lobby and sip on the terrible hospital coffee Joan had picked up for him. Joan had started off leaning against a pillar by the entrance doors but as time went on, they’d opted to sit against it instead. More than once they’d insisted that Roman come sit too, since it was probably going to be a while until Virgil was properly admitted and he could get a room number, but he couldn’t. Not with all this restless energy threatening to make him explode. His feet were sore and he was dizzy from turning on the spot every time he had to change directions, yet sitting still on the ground somehow seemed more harrowing. 

When the front desk lady called for him hesitantly (apparently he had scared her with his panicked shouting), he almost sprinted to her. Her words were meaningless drivel until she gave him a floor number and wing, and those became the only thoughts in his mind. It took a bit to convince Joan that he could do this alone, knowing that they still had other things to do today but that their sense of loyalty would never let them leave unless forced. They went begrudgingly, giving Roman another tight hug before watching him book it towards the elevator. 

Now he pushed through the double doors before him, not even bothering to read the red block letters on them. This was the floor, this was the correct wing. This was where Virgil was. This was where-

“Hello, Roman.”

_ Son of a BITCH. _

“Logan. Didn’t expect to see you again.”

“Nor I you. Unfortunate that it is under these circumstances.”

“Unfortunate in general,” Roman murmured under his breath. Their last conversation might have been hopeful, even somewhat kind, but that was when he had info on Virgil’s whereabouts. It didn’t change the fact that this nerd had just used the word ‘nor’ in an actual sentence. “What are you doing here? This isn’t your wing. I thought you stuck to ICU.”

“I do. I seem to be figuratively spreading my branches, especially regarding this case.”

“You mean ‘branching out’?”

“Is that not what I said?”

_ “Son of a-”  _ He couldn’t help but rub the bridge of his nose, not even able to tell if the doctor was joking or not. His face didn’t even twitch. __ “What do you mean ‘regarding this case’?”

“I received a somewhat distressed page from one of our front desk receptionists around one in the afternoon. She claimed a certain man-" He looked at Roman pointedly, "-had come in, begging to see a recently brought in patient, and after she denied him access, he insisted she speak to _me_ on his behalf.”

Roman thought back, fighting against his rising embarrassment.  _ Had  _ he brought up Logan to the front desk girl? It made sense, since he seemed kind of important here and he knew him, but his memory was kind of fuzzy. Stress will do that. 

“Seeing as Virgil is a special circumstance, and the ICU is well staffed for the amount of patients at the moment, I took him on as my patient.”

“You can do that?”

“ _ I  _ can.” Was Roman imagining the smug look on his face? How high up was this guy?

“Long story short, I’m back on Virgil’s case.”

“Yeah, you’re on mine too,” Roman grumbled.

“Would you like to see him?”

If people could light up like Christmas trees, Roman was fairly certain he would have. “That’s the one thing we’ve agreed on yet.”

A feeling he couldn’t place tore through him as Logan led the way. It reminded him of the feeling when you lean back in a chair and go too far; that moment you realize you’re going to fall and can’t do anything about it. You’re weightless but all too heavy, and you’re waiting for the hit. That rush of adrenaline tore through him as he stood outside the door, but it didn’t fade like he expected it too. Instead, it started over and over, starting once in his stomach, then again in his legs, and once more in his fingers.  _ What the hell is happening? _

Logan let Roman walk in first, and he was struck with deja vu. 

“I don’t know why but… I thought he’d be awake.”

“If it eases your mind, he’s not in a coma. He’s merely coming out of the sedative he was under.”

“Sedative?”

“When he came in-”

“I’m so sorry Lo, I drove as fast as I could!”

They both spun around, startled by the new presence in the room. The man braced himself against the door, panting slightly, never dropping the dazzling smile he was shooting both of them. Roman narrowed his eyes.

“Ambulance guy? What are you doing here?”

“It’s Patton, actually. But you can call me Ambulance Guy if you want!”

“I asked him to come in.” Logan looked… almost abashed? “He holds this case in deep regard. And after what happened last time, I figured he might be the best to... _help_ you... if the situation arises again.”

Roman eyes flashed, his anger getting the best of him. “So what, he’s here to  _control me?_ I'm not some _kid,_ __ I don’t need a- Wait.” The doctor’s words finally processed in his mind and he took a shuttering breath in, resting his shaky hands on the bed frame, “What do you mean,  _ if it arises?  _ Last time he only panicked because he didn’t know me.”

Logan and Patton exchanged a furtive glance. For once, Patton’s smile dropped into a more somber expression, and Roman  _ really  _ didn’t like what that implied.

His angry façade faded as he breathed out, “You think he still won’t remember me?”

“It… is likely. As often as the media likes to portray such scenarios, one hit to the head does not cancel out the first.”

“But he…” Shit, why was he so dizzy all of the sudden? His grip on the frame turned his knuckles white, a fact that neither of the men in front of him missed, “He was saying my name, on the phone! I didn’t tell it to him! And he said, he  _ said _ , that he remembered me!”

“Isn’t it possible that he learned it from Remus? Perhaps the two spoke of you.”

“OH, like Remus would say my name,” He spat, “Remus is a manipulative, sadistic, worthless excuse for a person. He was keeping Virgil from me for nothing more than a goddamn  _ game _ . It was a power play! And now he fucking  _ drugged  _ Virgil, what makes you think-”

“Hold on just a second.” Logan put up his hand as if tempted to clamp it over the other’s mouth. Roman raised an eyebrow, almost daring him to try. “Virgil wasn’t drugged.”

Roman only gave him a blank stare. 

“Of course, I should have led with that,” The doctor muttered to himself, going to grab the clipboard off the end of Virgil’s bed. “When he was picked up, he was barely conscious, but he kept muttering something about being drugged, so of course the team did a toxicity scan. His results all came back negative. They eventually got him into a brain scan, which is why he was sedated. His vitals were through the roof in panic.” Logan let the sheet fall between his fingers, meeting Roman’s eyes firmly. “Virgil had a stroke.”

Roman had barely a second to process the statement, ( _ a stroke? I thought strokes only happened to old people)  _ when a voice spoke from behind them again.

“And here you were, thinking that  _ I  _ had something to do with this! I assure you, my _dear_ brother, I only want what’s best for Virgil! Don't you trust me?”

He didn’t fully remember what happened next. One second, him and his brother locked eyes in the doorway, Remus sporting a grin that was somewhat reminiscent of the Joker. His white streak fell into his eyes, jacket over his shoulder, thumb hooked into his belt loop; the absolute embodiment of ‘asshole’.

And he must have hit him.

Because the next thing he knew, Remus was on the ground with an undignified grunt, cradling his hopefully broken nose as Roman stood over him, breathing heavily. His shock wore off and he was immediately struggling back to his feet, only to have his brother dropping onto his chest and landing another punch on his lips. Remus’ head hit the floor with a dull thud and he nearly screamed in anger, writhing under Roman’s weight. 

“Shut up, or I hit you again,” Roman snarled, ignoring the sting in his knuckles as he flexed his fingers. 

Remus gaped at the doctor behind Roman’s back, gesturing at his brother with blood covered hands. 

“Aren’t you going to do something?!”

Roman froze and turned slowly, half expecting to be escorted out of the hospital. He was going to go out kicking and screaming, he could assure that much. What he didn’t expect was the look of… was that pride?... on Logan’s face and the wide grin on Patton’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Logan began, looking to his husband in confusion, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you see anything?”

“Nope!” Patton said all too gleefully, “Not a thing!”

“I will fucking sue your asses!” Remus yelled, struggling to get free from his pinned position. Roman almost lost his footing, not because Remus was stronger than him, but because... shit- _Would_ Remus sue the hospital? He didn’t want to make anything worse, and what if antagonizing him was only hurting the situation? 

“You will do no such thing,” Logan interrupted his thoughts, holding his hands behind his back in a way that made him look almost like a movie villain, “If you really want to go through a lawsuit, that’s yours to bear. You want to go against the hospital’s legal team for an incident that occurred on it’s grounds, but not directly relating to a patient? Be my guest. Be reminded, though, if we were to bring  _ Virgil’s  _ physical trauma before a court, how do you think that would play out for you?”

Remus was silent. That was a first. 

“If I were you, and that is _truly_ a horrific concept, I would hope whatever deity, cosmic authority, or karmic belief you may give credence to doesn’t decide to repay you with the same cruelty you showed Virgil. Or, more likely, pray that Roman and Virgil don’t decide to bring your abuse to a court themselves. You’ll be lucky to get out of this with no repercussions.”

Roman took the words as encouragement. He reached down and grabbed Remus’ collar, almost lifting him off the ground and pushing one foot into the other’s forearm. It was a familiar position; the way they used to pin each other down as children when play-fighting. Except this wasn’t a game, and now he wasn’t as scared of accidentally snapping Remus’ arm as he used to be. 

“If you ever,  _ ever _ , come near him again, I will not hesitate to do much,  _ much _ worse than break your nose. Do you hear me?” 

Remus let out a sigh, wincing as the air rushed past his bloodied nose. Roman saw the nervousness in his face, the way he couldn’t settle on which eye to look at, the barely noticeable quiver in his lip, slowly losing his resolve as his brother didn’t back down. He wasn’t scared. No, it’s hard to scare a man who has no sense of self preservation, a man who’s daily life involves harrowing interactions with strangers. Scared wasn’t the right word for it. Defeated was more like it. Remus rarely felt  _ defeated,  _ but as Roman tightened his grip around his shirt and reared the other one up to punch him again, he knew he was done. 

“Fine,” He hissed, and Roman dropped him and his fist, backing up until his back met the bed, and Remus took the opportunity to snarl out a final, “But if you think he’s going to want you back, if you think he’ll  _ remember  _ you? You’ve got another thing coming. If you’ll recall,  _ you’re inconsequential. _ ” He didn’t get a response, the three standing in front of the bed, staring down at him like angels at the gates of heaven. The meaning was clear.  _ Get out. _

So Remus did. He gave his twin one last look, the same loathing look that they’d shared the night he left Virgil in the school parking lot. But this time, instead of him voicing his disdain, it was clear in his eyes.  _ We’re never going to see each other again.  _ Then he turned, slamming the door as much as you can slam a hospital door, and Roman finally let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Are you okay, Roman?” It was Patton’s gentle voice that pulled him back to the present. The man could only hum in reply, afraid that if he spoke, it would only open floodgates he’d rather keep closed. In all the fairy tales, the classic stories where the hero slays the dragon to save the princess, where the lines between good and evil are carved in gold, he’d always imagined the reward to feel amazing. The moment that air goes still after a battle, when the silence finally means the enemy is defeated. He’d imagined himself in the warzone countless times, the dashing prince downing his final foe, the feeling of accomplishment and relief coursing through him. 

He’d never thought in reality it would feel so… empty. 

Virgil was still, unmoving, the only sign he wasn’t dead was the steady beeping on the heart monitor and the almost imperceivable rise and fall of his chest. His expression was calm, and if Roman was able to look past the still prominent bruise around his eye and the split in his lip, he might be able to think he’s just sleeping. And if Logan’s words to Remus were anything to go by, this wasn’t the worst of his injuries.

_ “If we were to bring Virgil’s physical trauma before a court, how do you think that would play for you?” _

This was his fault. He blinked as the realization set in, and he was honestly surprised he hadn’t thought of it before. It was Roman who thought to bring in Remus, the most devilish of reinforcements, to try and  _ fix  _ Virgil. He could have let him be, could have let the memories resurface at their own pace. The ones that stayed gone, they could remake. He was always claiming to be the romantic, this should have been right up his alley!

_ “The same cruelty you showed him.” _

But no. He had to go, call up the one person who hurt Virgil more than anyone on the planet because he wanted to hurry it along. He put his own wants before Virgil’s, treated the scenario like a movie, like he was the hero. And Virgil was in Remus’ care, forced to do  _ who the hell knows what, _ hurt  _ who knows how _ , and it was all his fault.

The bar of the bed was warm under his grip. Since when has it been so warm? The plastic was almost too hot; burning him. Everything was too hot. So hot, too hot, can’t breathe-

_ “You’re inconsequential.” _

He was right before, when he said Remus wouldn’t even refer to him by his name. So? Virgil could have picked it up somewhere else… who’s to say he didn’t find him online? In the advertisements for his show? The babblings of a half conscious man weren’t exactly the most reliable source. Virgil saying he vaguely remembered him when he thought he was drugged could have been nothing more than incentive to get him help faster. Actually, there were reasonable explanations to everything that happened in that call that didn’t necessarily mean Virgil remembered him. 

The door handle’s cold. The cool metal grounded him for a brief moment; labored, almost manic breathing, dizziness almost flooring him, someone shouting and it’s so loud and too bright too bright too bright- 

_ “You think he’s going to want you back? You think he’ll remember you?” _

And even if he somehow did have an inkling of who Roman was, it didn’t mean things were going to go back to normal. Remus no doubt filled his head with every negative thing, true or not, in Virgil’s head. He trained him. In his few first weeks after a major trauma event, Remus would have been able to sculpt him, turn him into exactly what he wanted: someone who hates Roman. Through whatever means necessary. Hurt him, manipulate him, abuse him, and it was all his fault. It was all his fault.

A featherlight touch on his arm. It’s too much and not enough and the in between makes him feel like he’s exploding. It’s wrong and it hurts but not physically make it stop make it stop get OFF GET OFF-

_ All your fault. All your fault. All your fault. All your faultallyourfaultallyourfaultallyour- _

“Roman! You’re going to pass out, please look at me!”

He whipped his head up, hitting against the back of the wall, barely able to make out a blur of light blue and brown through his tear filled eyes. The touch on his arm returned and he flinched, but it didn’t let up. It only got firmer, and warmer, but not too warm. A gentle voice spoke from somewhere in front of him.

“Let’s try to uncurl you a little, okay? It can’t be easy to breathe like that. Can you let your arms go?”

Uncurl? Let his arms go? The touch moved down his arm until it settled on his fingers, worming its way underneath them. He could see now that yes, his arms were tightly wound around his legs, pulling his knees to his chest, almost painfully so. His lower back was starting to go numb from where it was pressed against what he assumed to be the wall his head had just hit. He allowed his fingers to be uncurled from his arms, grasping onto what was pulling them apart.

“Good job, kiddo! Hold onto my hand, okay? I’m gonna move to your side, can you stretch your legs out a bit?”

The voice was so kind, so soft, that he couldn’t help but comply. But the knees under his chin were as much a comfort as they were a hindrance, and his breath hitched painfully as soon as they moved. The pressure on his hand didn’t let go though, and the room they were in was darker and quieter than where he’d been before, so he let them drop a little farther. They were still bent, but not pressed against him, and that seemed to satisfy the voice.

“You’re doing so well. But you’re still hyperventilating, so let’s work on that together. Okay? We’re gonna take one big breath on the count of three, as big as you can.”

The voice hit three and Roman tried, he really did, to take the biggest breath he could, but it was hardly more than a gasp. There was a moment of silence, and he could vaguely hear the other person breathing. Each of their breaths were easily long as twenty of his. Was he expected to do that? His lungs were aching and his vision was blurred, he couldn’t get any air in, how was he supposed to do  _ that _ ?

They counted again, that voice that was trying so hard to help, the least he could do was attempt another breath. He pulled in like he’d been drowning, inhaling with such force that it seemingly broke a barrier he hadn’t realized was there, filling up his lungs completely.

“Good! That was good, now let out slowly. Let it out, let it out, keep going. Push it out until you can’t anymore. And then another big breath in. Yeah, just like that! You’re doing so good, keep it up.”

By some miracle, he began to feel it working. The pain in his back was the first feeling to come back, then the aching in his legs, so he let them finally drop to the ground to solve both problems. Then he felt stinging in his arms. A quick brush with his hand over the opposite arm revealed four red crescent shaped indents, not quite puncturing the skin but enough to bruise tomorrow for sure. Bit by bit, his eyesight returned fully, but it didn’t help much in the dim room. He could make out the crack of light underneath the doorway, just letting in enough light to outline some medical equipment on the otherwise bare walls. His hand fell to his side, brushing against something smooth with a painfully loud rustle. 

“How are you feeling? Scale of one to ten.”

Roman turned to look at the man sitting next to him on the wall, the one still holding his hand firmly. He took a deep breath, grateful that he was able to again.

“If one were how I was feeling a second ago, I’m probably at, like… a four, maybe.”

“Have you had a panic attack before?” Patton asked, shuffling around so he was sitting near Roman’s knees, facing him. He didn’t let his hand go. Roman shook his head. 

“No. I’ve seen Virgil have plenty. Never had one, though.”

Pattom hummed. “Not fun, huh?”

“Do you have them?” Roman sat up a little straighter against the wall, eyeing Patton warily. The man gave a tiny chuckle before picking up a roll of bandages and a small tube from the ground. “Where did you get those?”

“I grabbed them from the nurse’s station before following you in here. And yes, I do. I’ve had my fair share of… past issues. Homophobic family, high school and med school kicked my butt, I repressed it for goodness knows how long… I exploded. This was all after I met Logan though, so he helped me through it.” He twisted off the tube’s lid, changing his hold on Roman’s hand, “This is going to hurt for just a second, okay?”

He hissed as the antiseptic made contact with his split knuckles, biting his lip hard. The second and third touch hurt significantly less, turning into a dull throbbing, and he actually looked around the room for the first time. It was a small rectangular room, and the rustling from before looked like a shower curtain. He was leaning against a shower tub. 

“Why’s there a room with just a shower in it?”

“Not every room has its own.”

“Ah.”

“Do you want me to turn the light back on? I turned it off so you wouldn’t be so overwhelmed.”

“Oh… thank you.” It took a second for him to realize he’d been asked a question, “No, keep it off. For now. There’s just… a lot going on.”

“I assumed.” Patton smiled sympathetically, gently wrapping Roman’s knuckles, “You wanna talk about it?”

“You’re a total stranger.”

“Isn’t that better, sometimes? And I promise not to judge.”

“I guess…” Roman studied the way he worked the bandage roll, criss crossing and diving under his thumb to secure it, the pattern reminding him vaguely of the trunk of a coconut tree. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Well, did something specific trigger this attack?”

“You could say that.”

“Tell me about it.”

So he did. As soon as the first words slipped past his lips, he couldn’t stop them. He ranted about how he’d tried to talk to Virgil after he woke up, how he fucked it up and scared him. How he called Remus, thinking maybe he could get a jumpstart in the memories, but the show had kept him unable to check in on that. The way his life fell apart at the seams. Meeting Virgil at the store, seeing his pain and his fear of Remus, and being unable to do anything about it. Even after his fist was wrapped and Patton had leaned against the wall with him again, he kept talking, like his mouth had a mind of its own. He finished with today, his terror for Virgil, his newfound guilt over everything. Patton was eerily quiet when he finally stopped, and for a second he was scared he’d crossed a line.

“So, you blame yourself for this?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“It sounds to me like you were trying to do your best for Virgil.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t know if I called Remus in for him…” He laid his head against the wall, idly running his fingers over the bandage, “Or for me. I wanted Virgil back. And I’m scared I might have been willing to do anything to do that.”

“You want my opinion?”

“Why not.”

“I think that the fact that you’re so scared about it, so scared that you had a panic attack, shows that your intentions  _ now  _ are in the right place. And it’s not like you ever did anything maliciously, right? You had good intentions. Now you want to make it right. I think that’s all that matters.”

Roman huffed, an odd mix of laughter and disbelief. “Pretty lucky Logan called you in for babysitting duty. I doubt he would have been much good.” The look on Patton’s face made him instantly recoil. “Shit, that’s not what I meant. I know he’s your husband, I just… ah, shit. I’m sorry.”

Patton looked down, fiddling with the cardigan around his neck. “His heart’s in the right place, kiddo. He’s just not the best at expressing that. And he didn’t ask me to come to babysit you.”

“Then why did you?”

“I rushed here because  _ I care _ about you and Virgil.” A fire had lit in his eyes, and he gazed at Roman with such intensity, he couldn’t look away.

“Why? You don’t even know me. Us.”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you remind me so much of Logan and I? Because this situation hurts me so badly, because I’ve seen things happen to so many people and I’m never able to help it. They never want my help.”

“What makes you think  _ I _ want your help?” The comment had no sharpness behind it, it was just an honest question. Maybe with an undertone of  _ I still don’t know why I’m important to you. _

“I don’t assume. But you’re still sitting here talking to me, and that has to count for something.” Patton let out a soft giggle, and Roman physically relaxed at the sound. He wasn’t wrong. He  _ was _ still sitting here, talking to someone he barely knew, who’d only seen him at his worst points, and he didn’t even feel ashamed or awkward. 

“Do you think Virgil’s gonna be okay?” He mumbled, ducking his head into his chest in an attempt to stretch out the stiffness. 

“Do you remember what I said in the ambulance?”

Roman’s head shot up, incredulous. “A month ago? No. Do  _ you? _ ”

“Of course. I remember a lot.” How was this guy even real? He was way too nice.

“Remind me.”

“I said that I was optimistic for the long run. It was going to be tough in every way, but he’d get through it with you there. And I still believe that.”

He wanted to argue that so badly. He wanted to remind Patton that  _ he  _ was the reason they were back here, he’d made  _ so  _ many mistakes, but the look in the elder’s face gave him the feeling that if he argued, he’d get a lecture. In the kindest way possible. And the other must have seen the look on his face because he leaned forward, taking Roman’s hand lightly, and said with all the confidence of a man who refused to be proven wrong, “You’re not a bad person.”

Maybe it was the way Patton didn’t break eye contact, or the surety in his voice, but Roman began to believe him. With a shaky sigh, he allowed Patton to pull him to his feet.

“Are you going to be okay, seeing Virgil? He’s probably awake by now.”

Roman’s heart skipped a million beats. Holy Hera, what if he caused Virgil to have another panic attack, like after he woke up the first time? If he didn’t recognize him, what would he say? Or worse, would he recognize him and be mad? Mad that he let Remus take him, mad that he had-

“Roman, you’re spiralling. You don’t have to see him if you can’t right now.” 

_ How was this guy so good at reading emotions?  _

“No. I can. I have to. I’ll be okay.” Despite his brave words, he didn’t let go of Patton’s hand, and the elder didn’t seem to mind. He already gave the impression of a touchy feely person. They exited the small room, both blinking away the bright lights in the main hallway. A passing nurse gave Patton a smile as she wheeled a patient by them, but other than that, no one gave them any notice. 

“Being married to Logan means pretty much everyone knows me,” he explained briefly, leading Roman down towards the door at the end.

“Yeah, about that. How high up is that guy? He seems to have free reign over this place.”

Patton gave him a cheeky smile but said nothing, adding to Roman’s frustration. That nerd would be the death of him. He didn’t have time to ponder that further, though, because they stopped outside Virgil’s door much too quickly for his liking. The man didn’t hesitate, squeezing Roman’s hand as he opened the door and stepped in. This was it. 

How did the man he was with for years still manage to take his breath away? His hair had faded from a rich violet to mauve, unable to redye it in the month after the attack, and the way it fell into his eyes was still as gorgeously captivating as the day they’d first met in the alley. It was longer now, nearly brushing the bridge of his nose, but he didn’t bother to push it away as he talked to Logan, who had taken a seat next to the bed with his clipboard. One arm was laying limp at his side, the other playing absentmindedly with the edge of the blanket while he nodded along with the doctor’s words. He was awake, he was aware, and most importantly, he was relaxed. 

When he noticed the movement and turned to the two newcomers, Roman’s mouth went dry. His cheekbones were way more pronounced than he remembered and his eyes looked almost sunken, and he vaguely wondered if Remus had fed him enough. What surprised Roman the most were his eyes; gone was the glassy, confused haze from before, replaced with their familiar spark. He knew it well, from every time Virgil shot back some snarky remark or met him backstage after a perfect show. It was the spark he fell in love with. 

The two regarded each other for a long moment, and Roman didn’t move until Patton released his hand, a small encouragement to move forward. Logan got up from his spot, moving the chair slightly out of the way. And it was a good thing he did.

“Roman?” Virgil breathed, less of a question and more like he was still getting used to the name on his tongue. If the chair had still been there, Roman would have knocked it over with the way he lunged forward, nearly pulling Virgil off the bed into the tightest hug he wanted to risk. He gripped the back of his hospital gown, tangling it between his fingers as if he would float away if he didn’t hold him down. He felt skin, hand brushing past the shirt on his back and he pulled him closer, because he was warm and alive and real and  _ here and hugging him back and he was safe- _

Roman didn’t realize he was crying until he pulled away from Virgil, albeit reluctantly. Virgil let his arm drop from where it had been clamped around the other’s shoulder, fighting back his own tears.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Roman whispered, letting out an airy laugh. Behind him, Logan cleared his throat loudly.

“Anyways. As I was saying?”

“Why do you ruin everything?” Roman groaned dramatically, but gladly took the seat when the doctor gestured to it. He took Virgil’s hand, resting his forehead on it, and almost sighed in relief. God, it had been too long. 

“As I was saying. Your pre-existing head trauma, followed closely by yesterday's fall as you described it, most likely resulted in a blood clot breaking loose. It was small enough that otherwise, it would have not been such an issue, but there was also significant swelling in the blood vessels in the cerebellum. The two combined created a blockage, also known as an ischemic stroke.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Roman asked, refusing to look away from where he was rubbing Virgil’s knuckles with his thumb. He could feel the other man’s eyes boring into the back of his head, and he almost began to cry anew when Virgil squeezed his hand a little. 

“I’ve put Virgil on a series of medications to decrease brain swelling and prevent further clotting, as well as blood thinners. It’s all temporary, just until I deem him healed enough that he is not at risk for another stroke.”

“And his memory?”

Logan gestured at Virgil, placing the clipboard back in the sleeve at the foot of the bed, “That’s something I can not answer.”

Roman turned to the man on the bed desperately and the two paused for a moment. Virgil’s eyes were searching his, a sparkle of familiarity clashing with a sad confusion. This was the defining answer; did he remember him?

Virgil swallowed and looked away, “Bits and pieces. After I remembered your name, some stuff came back. Like… I know  _ you,  _ but I don’t…  _ know…  _ you?”

Well that wasn’t…  _ bad _ , right? Not exactly good, but-

“I’ve been told it’s similar to remembering one aspect of a dream, causing the entire thing to 'flood back',” Logan said, and Roman tried not to turn around and smack him. Patton must have picked up on the angry huff of breath, because he gently took Logan’s arm.

“Let’s let them catch up, Lo.”

“But I still have more to explain-”

“And Virgil will still be here when you get back. Jenna told me you skipped your break. Let’s go get you some food.”

“The cafeteria dinner is going to be  _ cold- _ ”

“You should have thought about that before skipping your break.” Shooting the two a wink, Patton closed the door, leading a still whining Logan. 

“Were we romantic?” Virgil blurted out the moment they were alone, “I kind of remember meeting. And some stuff we did. But not if we were…”

Roman took a deep breath, smiling sadly, “We were.”

“Oh,” He whispered, glancing at their conjoined hands, “I…”

“We don’t have to be anymore!” Roman corrected even as his heart shattered for the millionth time, reluctantly pulling their hands apart, but keeping it near Virgil’s on the blanket, “I’d like to try being friends again, because I…  _ really  _ miss you. But I’ll  _ never  _ force you into something more.”

The emo grew somber, returning his grip to the blanket. “ _Remus_ did. I don’t know if I loved him, but…” He shifted so he was more comfortable on the pillows, clearly trying to ignore the anger that flashed across Roman’s face, “I thought that I did.”

“He’s never going to hurt you anymore. Trust me,” Roman said with such certainty that Virgil grew slightly suspicious, eyes narrowing.

“Why? What did you do?” There was almost a tease to his voice, which would have been a lot more relieving if it wasn’t regarding his abuser.

Roman had the gall to look bashful. “I may have broken his nose…?”

Whatever reaction he had been expecting, it wasn’t for Virgil to start snickering. He would have understood anger, a sense of protection for the person he’d been conditioned to love, perhaps even fear? But for him to snort and shake his head, a little chuckle that almost made Roman weak, was incredibly relieving. “Serves the fucker right.”

“Glad you agree,” Roman smiled, wiggling the fingers on his wrapped hand. The two fell into old almost-bickering soon, the tension dissolving from both of their shoulders as the sun began to drop below the horizon.

For the first time in a month, Roman finally had real hope. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're not quite out of the storm yet.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can't think of too many warnings. Y'all get a breather. Maybe sleeplessness and mentioned nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: food mentions and therapy. That's about it.

“I brought muffins!” Roman sang as he barged into the hospital room, earning an eye roll from Logan. He was holding Virgil’s leg up in both hands, one in the crook of his knee and one clutching his ankle. Virgil gave him a weak smile, already used to the man’s exuberant entrances in the week since he’d woken up. 

Logan gently rotated Virgil’s leg outwards from the knee and spoke, doing his best to ignore Roman’s presence.

“Try again.”

Virgil took a deep breath and turned his focus to the lifted limb, straining slightly, but nothing happened.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, Virgil. This can take time.”

Such had been the routine the past few days. The stroke had affected the left side of Virgil’s brain, the doctor had said, and he had yet to gain any semblance of control over the right side of his body. Logan said it was okay, that he might just be recovering slower due to the stress he was put under both mentally and physically coming up to the stroke, but Roman couldn’t miss the way his lips pursed slightly, or his eyebrows scrunched together for barely a second, when Virgil couldn’t as much wiggle a toe. His speech had not been as affected, merely resulting in him speaking more cautiously and pronounced than before, so there was that. 

Logan lowered his leg back onto the sheets, coming up to his arm as Roman unpacked the muffins from his bag. 

“They’re from the bakery just down the street, and I got there right as they came out of the oven. I present to you, chocolate chip muffins with still-warm, melted chocolate!”

“Hell yeah!” Virgil beamed, reaching for one with his good hand. Logan rolled his eyes again when silently offered one, raising Virgil’s arm with a careful grasp on his elbow and wrist. He pulled it up over his head as Virgil chewed and watched him.

“Your limited motion is improving. Can you move the fingers?”

Same as with the leg, Virgil concentrated on the lifted limb, before sagging back into his pillow. He shook his head and Logan bit back a sigh. 

“Alright. We’ll try again later, after your MRI. You have physical therapy at eleven, and then a meeting with Doctor Picani at three.”

“‘Kay, thanks,” Virgil smiled around a bite of muffin, and to Roman’s utter shock, Logan smiled back. Not a tired half smile, or a sarcastic smirk, but an actual genuine act of emoting.

“You two getting along?” Roman asked as soon as the door was closed, taking his second muffin from the bag.

“He’s chill. Sometimes when he’s done his shifts, he comes and plays board games with me until Patton’s off. Or the other way around. I think Patton’s adopted me or something.”

“Doctors can do that? Hang out with patients after hours, I mean.” Roman asked.

“It’s always late, and there’s only a couple night nurses on watch,” Virgil finished his muffin and crinkled up the wrapper, dropping it into the bag before pulling his trolley of hospital breakfast towards himself, “Besides, he’s pretty vague, but I’m pretty sure he’s in some high position. No one bothers him. Ew, scrambled eggs?”

Virgil had used to be fine with eggs. He’d been able to tolerate almost any food, much to Roman’s disgust, even being able to enjoy airplane food or hospital meatloaf (from the time he got his appendix out), to the point of actually  _ enjoying  _ those godforsaken nasty Walmart sugar cookies. Point being, Virgil had never been picky about food. The only obvious difference between then and his new apparent  _ disdain  _ for the eggs was the attack, in a kitchen that’s main produce was eggs. If he consciously made the connection, whether it was intentional or not, was unclear. As far as Roman was aware, he still had no memory of that day. 

“How late does this happen?” Roman asked. He was there, almost every day all day now that the show was over and his classes were on a break, and had never seen one of these impromptu game sessions.

“Way past visiting hours,” He explained, trying to spread jam on toast with one hand and getting increasingly frustrated, “They always get off shifts late. Like, past eleven.”

“And you’re up past eleven?” Roman maneuvered the toast from him, spreading on the jam and handing it back, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Recovery, and all that?”

Virgil shrugged, chewing thoughtfully on his cold toast.

“You’re not sleeping.”

Virgil didn’t respond.

“Why not?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, exhaling forcefully through his nose, “What does it matter to you?”

“I’m your-” Roman took a deep breath, internally smoothing out his frustration like Hades' hair in the Disney Hercules, “I’m your friend, Virgil. I care about you. You had trouble sleeping before, and I’m worried it’s for the same reason.”

Virgil laid the toast back down, suddenly interested in his bed sheets. “What was the reason before?”

“You had a lot of nightmares. Wake-up-in-a-cold-sweat type nightmares. You ended up not sleeping properly for months. I found you slumped over in a plate of pancakes once,” Roman chuckled lightly at the memory, “It took a couple tries to find the right ones, but we ended up getting you on some sleeping medication that worked wonders. I still have the bottles at home. I can bring them tomorrow and see what Logan says.”

He hadn’t even stopped to check with Virgil if it  _ was  _ actually nightmares once again, keeping him from ever sleeping peacefully, but his silence was enough for Roman to understand. Virgil nodded quickly, not making eye contact.

“If you ever want to talk…” Roman reached forward and ever so carefully laid his hand over Virgil’s, “I’m here. I’ll always listen. I know you don’t know me well, but I am.”

Virgil sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That’s all I ask.”

\--------

Roman had convinced Virgil to at least finish the fruit on his plate before the nurse came in and took the tray, giving him the last muffin to fill him up. She hadn’t looked overly pleased that his food was almost untouched, but had gone without a fight when Virgil had shown her the muffin wrappers. Still, they’d both been given a miniature lecture on nutrition before she’d vanished into the hall. Virgil continued to grumble that ‘at least he ate the fruit’ until another nurse brought in a wheelchair and maneuvered him into it smoothly, wheeling him off the physical therapy. 

Roman was left alone in the room, a common occurrence, and had pulled out his laptop to work on his class rubric for his more advanced students, when Logan entered.

“Roman, just the person I was looking for.”

“That’s a surprise,” He sighed, shutting the laptop and laying it on the bed. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to speak to you, regarding Virgil.”

“I assumed.”

Logan stared at him for a moment, a sort of protectiveness clouding his features, “Before I begin, I ask that you refrain from accusing Virgil of anything, or getting angry with him. If you must react emotionally, take it out on me.”

Roman decided to not take offense at that, instead focusing on his rising anxiety at what Logan could be talking about. Was Virgil never going to recover? “I’ll be fine. What is it?”

He sighed, taking a half seat on the bed, “Virgil has expressed that while he does find comfort in your presence, he is  _ uncomfortable  _ at the idea of living with another person right now. I’ve talked with his psychiatrist, and he’s come to the conclusion that this stems from his time with Remus. In simple words, he needs some time alone.”

Roman got that; he really did. What Virgil went through, especially following an attack that left his memory in shambles, would have anyone needing their space. That didn’t mean that his heart didn’t break just the slightest bit. He hadn’t really had a plan, but in his subconscious, he’d pictured Virgil coming back home. 

“I get it,” He said, “But what does that mean for him? Where will he live?”

Logan seemed unsure, a new look for him, “Patton and I have a currently unrented basement suite. We’ve offered it to him for however long he needs.”

“Oh.”

“You can come visit, though I advise you give Virgil adequate time alone. He needs ample time to process and to heal.”

He tried not to think of the blatant undertones in that, and tried not to be annoyed. For the millionth time, he had to remind himself that the doctor just wanted what was best for Virgil, and pissing him off wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“Was he scared to tell me himself?” He decided, seeing as the man was waiting for some kind of response before he left.

“I imagine if he had asked something similar of Remus, he would not have responded kindly,” Was all he said, resolutely, before standing. The doctor readjusted his coat, then his glasses, and finally his stethoscope. “Do you have any other questions?”

“No,” Roman said numbly, pulling his laptop back onto his lap, “I’m good.”

He couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous of the doctor and his husband. It felt weird to be on the same ‘playing field’ as two practical strangers, having the same relationship to Virgil. Roman had the history though, he  _ knew  _ him better, but… that was for nothing now. Not when Virgil didn’t even know himself, aside from dream-like flashes of his past and a month with Remus. 

When Virgil was wheeled back into the room, looking considerably more tired than he had before, Roman packed his laptop back into his bag. He hadn’t gotten as much done as he would have liked, with his brain too far gone. A lot of the time had just been spent staring at the blinking cursor. 

“Tough session?” Roman asked when Virgil was back in bed, the nurse checking his vitals before leaving with the chair.

Virgil hummed. “Could you turn off the lights? My head is killing me.”

He was up before the words were even properly out of his mouth, flicking off the switch and returning to his seat. “How was it?”

Virgil just shook his head, sighed, and closed his eyes. “Tiring.”

“Want a nap before therapy?” 

He nodded. 

“Want me to stay?”

Another nod.

So he did. 


End file.
